


Crossroads

by FrozenSnares



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Attempting to write the slowest burn I had ever done, F/M, Fantasy, First Meetings, I haven't even written the next chapter, Mostly Westerosi Compliant, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Road Trips, SO, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Violence, Work In Progress, i certainly don't, which is a first, who knows what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenSnares/pseuds/FrozenSnares
Summary: For all of Shireen's life, she has existed in that liminal space between what most believe is real and what sheknowsis real. This space that exists between the worlds is largely ignored from the majority of the population, but it is also the reason she exists at all, particularly in this capacity. She searches for the place that doesn't quite exist, hoping to find the being responsible for this life that was thrust upon her, but she can't seem to stop running into another set on this odd life path. And no matter what, she can't understand why Rickon Stark chose it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a massive work in progress that has been sitting on my computer for literal months without being written, largely because I truly believe my computer doesn't want it to exist (long story). So now, that choice is up to you.

Rain was falling in sheets and cracks of lightning shot across the sky at odd intervals. There wasn’t even a purpose to counting the time between the rolls of thunder. The noise was continuous and everything was contributing to the constant sound: the pounding of the rain, the cracks of thunder, the crunch of gravel under wheels, and the groaning engine of Shireen Baratheon’s 1967 Valyrian as she pressed the pedal down further and fought the natural forces to get to her destination as quickly as possible. The windshield wipers were already at their maximum speed, and Shireen was leaning forward over the steering wheel, trying to see anything clearly through the splash of rain in the dead of night. She narrowed her eyes, looking through the small sliver of illuminated road provided by her headlights. Her turn was coming up soon, according to her source of information from a bar several miles back.

Shireen winced at the memory—how the drunken man threw the punch before looking. His would-be opponent avoided the hit, letting her take the full force of the punch. But of course, Shireen’s had worse, and it only took one look at her before both men were staggering away and she had to chase them down and milk every snippet of information out of them. Afterwards, she was rushing to her car, knowing that sunset was already long past, but she might stop one very stupid man from his imminent death. She thought there might still be blood on her cheek from the man’s knuckles, but she didn’t have the time to check or the grip to spare, especially when she swerved to make her turn—sudden as it came up—and had to release the wheel to shift her car into third and then second the fastest she ever had.

Ignoring the old dirt roads, Shireen veered onto the walkway just on the edge of the sand. As quickly as possible in this storm, she scanned the coast, looking for access as far out in the ocean as she could get. She briefly thought of driving through the waves before she mentally scolded herself for even thinking of putting her grandfather’s car through that. However, she soon caught sight of a pier and made for it straightaway. Without even considering that it could be in any state of disrepair or lack integrity, Shireen drove out as far as she dared before putting the car in park and shoving off her heavy coat. She left the headlights on before climbing out and immediately becoming drenched down to her skin. Shoving her hair back behind her shoulders, Shireen popped open the trunk and shoved the duffel bags away with more force than necessary so she could get at her rarely accessed compartment in the front of her trunk. 

As soon as the flashlight was in her hand, it flickered on and off without a care for the weather or the circumstances, and Shireen decisively threw it back in her trunk, digging about frantically for anything that could possibly help the situation. Lightning flashed behind her, and Shireen swore at it, knowing that it was going to provide more light than any of the dead battery holders she’d kept stowed away in the trunk. Even with the situation pressing in around her, Shireen promised to buy at least five packs of batteries the next time she had the cash to spare, even though she knew that the second she moved away from her car, she would either be dead or coming back safely, and she would really rather have the latter as her outcome. Her fingers gently rubbed against a smooth sheet of plastic despite her urgency, and she paused before pulling out a re-sealable plastic bag. 

She ripped open the seal with her teeth, saving herself a hand that she used to pull out her phone. She found the application for the brightest flashlight her phone could produce and turned it on before dropping it into the bag and giving it the tightest seal she possibly could. Facing the water, Shireen scanned the surface for any signs of a disturbance and finding nothing visible with the rain mutilating the water. Letting out a sigh, Shireen braced herself for jumping under, placing a hand on the trunk and preparing to slam it shut. Before she did, she pulled out a sledgehammer. Then, she slammed the trunk closed and walked straight off the edge of the pier.

The lightning only just made a difference to the darkness and the depth of the water, so it took Shireen a longer moment than she had to spare to locate the beam of her phone with the sting of salt water in her eyes. Fighting her hair now that it was suspended underwater, Shireen held tight to the sledgehammer that slowly pulled her straight to the bottom. She didn’t bother to resist the drag, knowing that she couldn’t hold her breath any longer than a minute and that she might have to make a second trip down to find what she was looking for. She swept her phone around, trying to find any disruption at the bottom of the ocean. In the distance, on the opposite end of the pier, an obvious swarm of flippers gathered.

Lifting the sledgehammer as much as possible, Shireen kicked herself back to the surface with all the strength she had. She breathed in the deepest breath she could when she broke the water before shoving her phone in her mouth, holding onto the wooden pier to steady herself as she took the sledgehammer out of the water and tossed it onto the ledge above her. Hauling her waterlogged body out was only possible with the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through her system, and Shireen prayed that it stayed long enough to get her target to safety.

She only paused for a moment on the wooden boards before gripping the sledgehammer tightly and running across the meager ten feet of pier before diving straight toward where she knew she’d have to quickly disperse some very vicious, territorial creatures. Still, she urged herself deeper, ignoring the sharp grabs at her arms and the sticky feeling that somehow stayed on her skin despite being underwater. It was the first fast swish of a tail that threw off Shireen’s course, and she swung blindly with the sledgehammer to fend off the attack before continuing down. Her speed moved the bulk of the crowd from her target, and Shireen caught a glimpse of billowing, thick cloth floating around a body that was simply suspended underwater.

Before Shireen could approach any further, both of her arms were pulled back and her legs were quick to follow. Shireen fought as much as she could, knowing that her air supply was already running low but she couldn’t fight the swarm, especially now that she couldn’t see and her only weapon was subdued, though it was still in a tight grip. A beautiful face appeared in front of her, illuminated by a closer crack of lightning. On the second flash, everything about the face changed: the pupils expanded, the nose flattened into slits, long gashes lined the jaw, and scales sprung out of smooth skin. Shireen steeled herself, trying to fix her grip on her phone and spin it around her hand. Just before the creature moved too close, Shireen flashed the beam from her phone directly at her face, tilting her chin up to put the mess of mottled flesh on her left cheek on full display.

As expected, the swarm dispersed immediately and Shireen’s window of opportunity had never been smaller. She was nearly out of air, and she was certain that the person she was trying to rescue had already drowned. Fighting her way deeper, Shireen grasped at the first bit of them she could touch, immediately kicking her way straight up with twice as much drag pulling her down. All of the clothes were not helping the situation in the slightest, and Shireen could sense that she had no time left before she was drowned by her own devices. Pulling the other body up, Shireen fought the heavy jacket to remove it and ease her slow ascent. After struggling for far too long and sucking in an accidental mouthful of water, Shireen shoved the sledgehammer into the jacket and let the weight drag it off the body of this incredibly lanky boy.

For a fleeting moment, Shireen considered abandoning him, especially considering that she didn’t think herself capable of pulling both of their waterlogged bodies onto the pier. Her hands started shaking, and Shireen prayed for a closer crack of lightning so she could see whether this was a cause worth fighting. But it had been far too long, and Shireen was far too stubborn to give up after coming this far, so she kicked her way straight up, feeling the cold sting of air before she realized she could breathe again. Leaning her head back, Shireen spewed out whatever water was in her mouth to take in the most refreshing, rehabilitating breath of air. Something circled her leg, and Shireen kicked out, righting herself and realizing that the boy she saved was now floating in her direction and was very much unconscious. Pushing her way back to the pier, Shireen struggled to get them both near enough to start the slow process of hauling them onto the thankfully short pier. She made it as quick as she possibly could, fighting the slick wood, pouring rain, tides of the ocean, and sacrificing a lot of personal safety to get this boy flat on his back on the pier.

When she finally finished, Shireen paused for exactly one second before rushing to check his vitals and start CPR as quickly as possible. She griped a hand tight with her other before starting chest compressions as fast as she could go with how much energy she had just depleted. She managed to get two full breaths into his lungs before she picked up on the compressions again, and she wondered if the effort was even worth it. Images of her own life struggles and her parents flashed through her mind, and Shireen sighed before increasing her tempo. After five rounds, the boy started choking with so much force, Shireen rolled him onto his side and he vomited profusely, thankfully close to the ocean.

Leaning back, Shireen finally let her body rest from the effort of everything that happened in the past hour. It was much more than she bargained for: following the small lead overheard a county away from someone complaining about a delayed shipment because of a wreckage offshore. Shireen groaned loudly, because even if this boy had just cleared his lungs, he was still unconscious and not likely to come about anytime soon. She briefly wondered about his age, thinking him far too young to be out here intentionally, but he was probably legal which was the only thing Shireen cared about to stave off any potential kidnapping claims cropping up.

“Fuck,” Shireen breathed out, collapsing onto the deck and trying to take some comfort in the rain that was slowly washing her clean. It was only the sharp rapping directly beneath her that shocked her back up, seeking out the boy she just saved. She mentally made a note to stop referring to him as a _boy_ , solely because the thought of looking after a child made her feel weird. He was safe on the pier, though, and Shireen located her phone, found her battery nearly depleted, and threw it into her car before making her new guest follow suit.

The motel she booked a room at earlier was a decent drive away, but Shireen wouldn’t survive the night without some fuel, particularly as she would already have to figure out how to get her car dried out whenever this downpour stopped. She pulled into the first open drive-through she found—a small beacon of heat and grease in the heavy rain. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was past midnight, and she needed to be attentive at least long enough to get herself into a bed.

“Can I have a number seven?” Shireen called out as loud as she can, knowing that her voice wouldn’t work well. “Large fries and a drink.”

She didn’t even hear the response, but she saw her order pop up on the screen with the total at the bottom. Nodding to herself, she nearly started driving forward, when she glanced to the backseat where her guest was sprawled out. “Make that two of everything, please,” she added, shifting her car into gear before moving to the next window and paying. 

The cashier at the window gave her a worried look as he reached out for the cash, not sparing her face a second glance because he was preoccupied with her arms. Curiously, Shireen looked over to see that several large splinters had lodged their way into her skin, making her look even more demonic that she likely did. She gave the cashier the best smile she could, knowing that it looked awful at this hour, especially with an unconscious man in her backseat.

“Bar fight,” she explained, just to ease the worry from the cashier’s face. “You don’t want to see the other guys.”

The spotty teenager nodded quickly, handing her back too much change and shutting the window quickly before she could even consider correcting him. Instead, Shireen shuffled through it as she rolled forward, handing it to whoever was giving her the order. The employee took it with a confused look, but he stared at her face with unreserved revulsion until she drove off with her car smelling largely of grease.

As she drove, Shireen shoved a hand into the bag of food. She grabbed onto some fries with the tips of her fingers and ate as she navigated her way back to the motel. Parking as close to the door of her room as possible, Shireen shut her eyes and leaned her head back. She went through the motions of turning her car off, dreading everything that was between her and a night of rest. With a sigh, she pulled herself back into the pouring rain, grabbing onto the bag of food and going to retrieve a duffel bag of clothes. Trudging to the room, Shireen unlocked the door. Tossing both of the bags down, she made straight for the bathroom, automatically turning on the hot water.

Returning to her car, she hauled her unconscious passenger out and into the room, making sure to lock both doors behind her. Carefully placing him down on the tile floor of the bathroom, Shireen looked around. She didn’t have a plan past this. Both of them needed a bath, but she definitely wasn’t planning on washing a complete stranger. Which was better to get out of the way first? 

There was no way around helping out the stranger she brought along with her, so she started on the slow process of pulling off his soaked clothes. It was a long process, dealing with his lanky arms and legs. She simply piled his clothes into the sink and left him in his underwear before placing him into the bathtub. His legs were too long to be covered with the warm water, so his knees stuck out, but he at least didn’t appear to have hypothermia, for which she was extremely grateful. After supervising him for a couple minutes to make sure he wouldn’t drown on his own, Shireen returned to the main room. 

She quickly stripped off her own wet clothes, simply wrapping herself in a towel before sitting down on a hard wooden chair. Immediately, she reached for the food. The hamburger was still warm, and Shireen had a hard time keeping herself from swallowing it whole. She forced herself to take small bites, pausing to grab out anything else she needed. This included a first aid kit, as she had two arms full of splinters to tend to, and she quickly remembered her dead phone, so she set it to charge. Alternating her attention between her arms and her food, Shireen pulled out the bulk of the damage from her arms. Once the food was also finished, there was nothing else to do but wash up and get some well-deserved sleep.

Tucking the towel tight around her body, Shireen pulled back the sheets of the bed and went back to the bathroom, thankful to find her new tenant with his head still above the water. She drained the tub as she located another towel. Wrapping the new towel around her guest, Shireen carefully lifted him from the tub and placed him into the bed. She left him in the towel and pulled the sheets over him. Before leaving to clean up herself, Shireen leaned down over his head, putting her ear to his mouth and placing a hand lightly on his chest. After a moment, she caught the soft sounds of his breathing, though it was slow and somewhat labored. Still, his heart was steadily beating under her hand, so she was at least in the clear about being accused of murder.

Leaving him to his rest, Shireen went back to the tub. She ran the hot water again, filling it up for herself as she quickly stretched the wet clothes over any available surfaces to dry during the night. As she tossed the second pair of jeans over the back of a chair, a wallet fell to the floor, spilling out some of its contents. Crouching down, Shireen looked through the fallen cards. There was almost no cash in the wallet, only credit cards. None of them had the same names on them, and a few Shireen recognized from rock bands she listened to. There were a multitude of scattered receipts, mostly for fast food, but occasionally for odd purchases from home improvement stores. Shaking her head, Shireen shoved the contents back into his wallet before a small note caught her attention. 

It was shoved into the clear window of the wallet, and had been hidden by a mostly-ripped-up receipt. Shireen dug her fingers in to move the receipt out of the way. The message of the note was written in a neat script, and it looked older than Shireen expected. It simply read, 

_Rickon,  
I’m done searching. Don’t forget to live your life._

It wasn’t signed. If it had been, it was likely that the sender’s name was lost to age or possibly just the wear that this wallet had seen. Moving everything back the way she approximately found it, Shireen left the wallet on the seat of the chair before going back to her bath.

She slid into the warm water, thankful for the heat after a long, cold night. She rinsed out her hair thoroughly before actually washing it, making sure to scrub down to the roots and get out any residual sand from her aquatic encounters. It was a long, slow process with her exhaustion catching up to her. Still, she persevered through it to get soap over her body and fully rinsed off.

All of her movements were on autopilot as she dried off and went to retrieve dry clothes. Wringing out her hair, Shireen dug through her duffel bag and dressed as comfortably as she could. Even though there were still quite a few things to deal with, Shireen didn’t stop herself from flopping down onto the bed. The stranger next to her hadn’t moved in the slightest, and Shireen wasn’t in any mood to do any different. She simply let her body do as it wished, and drifted off to sleep.

\--

Though the sun wasn’t out, it was very obviously bright when Shireen finally woke. Her entire body felt stiff and sore, and she stretched out slowly as she sat up. A turn on her side proved that the stranger was no better off than she, perhaps only just since he was still fully asleep. Groaning, she left the bed slowly, heading to the window to look outside. It was no longer raining, but the sky was still a single shade of grey. Pulling a hand through her hair, Shireen leaned forward against the window before sharply pulling back. She gingerly raised a hand to her cheek, pressing lightly over the tender, bruised skin there. Grazing the outline of a cut, Shireen realized that the damage taken from the punch last night was greater than she had time to care for and would likely be a long time healing.

Ignoring it, she started yet another investigation of her arms. Even though she took the time to take out the bulk of the splinters from the pier, there was still quite a lot of damage to deal with. Dragging the chair and first aid kit to the window, Shireen slumped down yet again and attempted to help her healing process along as much as possible. The light that bled in from the window was enough for Shireen to see by, and she maneuvered her sharpest tweezers clumsily with her left hand. She dug as deep as she could—ignored the small amounts of blood—and pulled out all the leftover slivers of wood from her arms.

The process was slow-going, especially with the sheer volume of wood that had made its way into her arms. When her right arm was thoroughly torn up, Shireen quickly wrapped it in a loose bandage before starting in on her left. Though it was just as painful as the other, she was much less prone to slip-ups now that she was using her dominant hand. As she went, the soft creaking of old bedsprings hit her ears. She glanced over to see the stranger finally showing signs of life.

Returning to her arms, Shireen let her ears tell her what her guest was up to. She heard the shifting of the sheets, the louder creak of the bed, and then an only-somewhat-muffled groan. Shaking her head again, Shireen bit her tongue as she pulled out yet another splinter. Without looking over, Shireen said, “You owe me a sledgehammer.”


	2. Chapter 2

Everything felt dull and aching. It was fortunate that Rickon couldn’t fully experience the pain throughout his body. His lungs were still struggling to work, more compressed now that he was sitting up. A massive headache pounded strong enough for him to briefly wonder if he was drunk. Most of the symptoms were there. He didn’t even recognize his extremely blurry surroundings.

With some effort, he managed to move his legs, shifting his weight around and trying to find the most comfortable position. Nothing was working. Resting his head in his hands, Rickon let out a loud groan. There was some muffled sound from the side of the room, but he didn’t have the focus to worry about it now. Too many sensations were assaulting his body, and he didn’t have time to work through them. Moving his head around, Rickon tried to break through the stiffness that was growing there. He didn’t remember much. He only knew that a storm had stuck last night, and he was out on the docks looking for means of transportation. He had either failed or ended up at a part of his home that he was utterly unfamiliar with.

“You get that?”

Rickon turned to the voice. He didn’t recognize it in the slightest. Though he knew it likely belonged to a woman, there was none of the warmth or upward lilt of flirting that he was used to. This woman wasn’t trying to charm him, and he was annoyed at such a treatment when he was in this state. He took his time stretching out, searching for his voice.

“Didn’t catch that.” His voice was raspy, scraping its way out of his weak throat. Rickon tried to swallow, but the raw path of his esophagus was in desperate need of lubrication. He prayed for water to be nearby and found no such luck. However, the look about his surroundings was helpful.

He was sitting on a very poor excuse for a bed. The sheets were scratchy, even if they were warm enough. The mattress itself was far too firm, and Rickon would have abandoned it quickly had he the energy to do so. With the mediocre wallpaper lining the walls and basic, simple furnishings, Rickon knew that he was in a motel. It wasn’t near made-up enough to be a proper hotel, but the feeling of it was familiar to him. After all, he had spent the last two years jumping from temporary living arrangements and savoring the rare moments of a warm bath and comfortable bed.

“A sledgehammer, buddy,” the woman said sharply. “Delivered directly to my mailbox, as soon as you can swing it.”

Rickon didn’t stop the smirk from appearing on his face. “I can swing it now if you put it in my hands.”

A loud slam against glass made him jolt up, looking over to see a fierce, battered woman storming toward him. Bloodied bandages covered her arms, not to mention the split skin over her right cheekbone. Rickon didn’t even pay it much mind. His focus was consumed by the mangled flesh on the left side of her face. Even with the fury obvious on her face, the emotion didn’t touch her left eye or the side of her mouth. She didn’t seem capable of moving the paralyzed flesh, and he was worried that he knew exactly what it was.

Rickon quickly tore his eyes away, following the collar of her tight tank top. She was obviously well-built. Years of muscle and wear sat on her body, not to the point of being overly skinny. It seemed like she couldn’t afford a diet to keep a figure like that. After all, he noticed the grease-stained paper bag toppled over on a table, too. She seemed strapped for cash, especially if she was in here for the night. Before his eyes and mind could wander even further, the woman grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes.

“Look here, buddy,” she said. Her voice was dripping with acid. “I risked my own neck and lost my own supplies because of your stupidity. I expect it paid back in full.”

Rickon narrowed his eyes at her, trying to keep his composure. It was a bit difficult, given that he was only in his underwear. He was used to being spoken down to, though. There was nothing he needed to know about this woman to know that she thought he was a small, petulant child. Clearing his throat, Rickon pulled his chin out of her hold, hitting her hand away in the process. “Should have got that in writing first,” he said. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t—? You would be _dead_ if I hadn’t been there,” she spat at him. “So don’t give me this bullshit.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Rickon waved off the comment. He pulled himself out of bed with quite a bit of effort, searching about for his clothes. “I’d be dead, and you’d have your sledgehammer. Everyone would be happier.”

She shook her head at him, but Rickon ignored it. He took careful steps away from the bed, trying not to let the pain cross his face. Every step felt like a jolt straight to his spine, and it felt like he no longer had the muscle to hold up his own weight. Placing a hand on the wall, Rickon steadied himself with the least amount of weight, helping himself forward. He needed to get dressed and leave as soon as he could. 

“I saved you!” the woman called after him. “You’d have _drowned_ without me. Hypothermia and pneumonia—at the very least.”

Rolling his eyes, Rickon shuffled over to his clothes. He shook out his shirt, pulling it over his head. “Do your saving attempts always include abductions?” he called back. “Can’t even manage to take a drowning victim to a hospital, can you?”

The creak of old bedsprings made its way to him over the shaking out of his stiff jeans. He winced at the thought of spending the night on that mattress. Shoving his legs into the resisting denim, Rickon tried to ignore the woman in the other room, but she knew how to make herself heard.

“Great plan,” she said. He could hear her eyes rolling with those words. “I’ll just explain that some idiot jumped into merling-infested waters and got himself drowned. That’ll do it.”

Swiping his socks, shoes, and wallet into his arm, Rickon made to leave. He didn’t want to be here any longer. He left for exactly this reason. He wasn’t going to get lectured for something he didn’t deserve. He knew better, and he wasn’t going to get chewed out from yet another person who refused to hear him out. Even if her word choice piqued his interest, it wasn’t enough to make him stay. With heavy steps, Rickon made his way into the main room. He ran a quick check for all of his belongings. However, as he looked around the room, he found that something very important was missing.

Stomping over to the bed, he rounded on the woman. “Where’s my jacket?” he demanded.

She gave him a confused look. “What?”

“My jacket,” Rickon repeated. His voice was rising beyond his control, and he knew that it would start cracking with the wear on it. He pointed at her with his shoes as he set to describing the article of clothing. “Long, black military jacket. Lots of pockets. Some zippers. No hood. Where is it?”

The woman simply blinked at him. Her expression looked completely neutral despite his outburst. She shrugged. “Didn’t realize boys were so into fashion these days,” she said, reclining back on the bed. “You’ll find it at the bottom of the harbor, probably alongside my sledgehammer.”

“Forget the fucking sledgehammer,” Rickon shot back. Despite his words, he very much wanted one simply for the sake of throwing something. Getting a better grip on his things, Rickon quickly shoved his wallet into his back pocket. He was vaguely aware that he had missed, and half of it would be flapping over his ass, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he took assessment of his belongings, found nothing significant missing and went for the door.

“You need to recover,” the woman said. She was still lying on the bed, and her eyes were closed now. “I got you food.”

Rickon scoffed, missing the doorknob before finding his grip on it. “I’ll make sure to scarf it down when I ship your precious fucking sledgehammer to _Stupid bitch, run-down motel, middle of fucking nowhere Westeros_ ,” Rickon said. He threw open the door, finding himself blinded despite the lack of visible sun. “Nice knowing you. I’ll scrub it from my brain soon.”

He slammed the door behind him with the most force he could muster. With all of his foresight, Rickon strained his memory and steered himself away from the window she could see out of, stumbling over to the main building of the motel. The door was unlocked, which was shocking enough. He staggered up to the empty counter, dropping his heavy boots on it before adding the rest of his weight. Groggily, he searched for a bell to ring. No one appeared to be anywhere in the general vicinity of the building.

Leaving his boots on the counter, Rickon wandered through the small building. He found a sink in a tiny bathroom. Ignoring the health risks, he ran the tap cold and cupped his hands together before bringing the water up to his mouth. If he managed to narrowly avoid hypothermia and pneumonia while unconscious, then he could risk some bacteria. Maybe a short-lived illness would keep him healthy for the next year. 

Rickon was certain that he had spilled a fair amount of water down his front in the process, but his clothes felt so disgusting, it wasn’t a huge concern for him at the moment. He’d just change as soon as he remembered where he left his belongings. Wiping off his chin, he went back into the front room. It was just as dead as before, so he took the time to shove his socks and shoes back on. It was a wholly unpleasant experience. His shoes were still soaked through, leaving his feet sticking to the insoles and making his socks damp enough that his feet squelched with every step. Suffering through the feeling, he quickly reorganized himself before trudging back out into the bright day.

It looked to be past noon, but he wasn’t entirely sure without the sun out. Randomly choosing a direction, he set off with his hands shoved in his pockets. He needed to make it back home. No matter what, he wouldn’t take his next trip alone, and he would have to go retrieve his truck soon. After all, it seemed his final destination wouldn’t be in walking distance. He probably shouldn’t have even tried to take this one as such. Hitchhiking across the North was hard work, but he still knew how to jump trains to travel. Right now, Rickon just needed a safe method of getting to the bottom of a harbor. Then, he’d sneak his way onto a cargo ship. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it was better than nothing.

Running a hand through his hair, Rickon went on. He hoped that he was heading toward the water, but there were no signs for him to check himself against. Keeping his feet moving, Rickon stayed along the side of the beaten road. Maybe he could flag down a car if one ever passed this way…

No such luck was granted to him. After an indeterminable amount of time, Rickon spotted a sign:

_White Harbor — 30 km_  
_Winterfell — 100 km_  
_Castle Black — 220 km_

Beneath it was a smaller road sign accompanied with an arrow pointing to the left:

_Oldcastle Harbor — 3 km_

Gritting his teeth, Rickon quickly swung out his foot in a long step. He started across the street without worry, as he could hear nothing about. Once he was across the street, he heard a car approaching and was surprised to find that it was much closer than he anticipated. Snapping his fingers next to his ears, he was surprised to hear such a muffled sound. Groaning loudly, Rickon doubled himself over, as his head fell between his knees, he felt the swishing sound of water settled comfortably in his ears. Swearing loudly, he continued on.

Rickon didn’t feel that he had any energy required for properly stopping the ear infection to come, so he settled on walking with one ear as close to his shoulder as possible, putting a small bounce into his steps. It provided little relief, but it was plenty distracting as he made his way to the outskirts of Oldcastle. Before his surrounding shifted to that of city occupied by people, he stumbled upon a small, secluded beach. He changed course immediately, needing to find the harbor as quickly as possible.

Avoiding the sand as long as he could, Rickon regretted the choice as soon as his feet sunk into the pliable ground. It was easier on his feet. With the recent rain, the sand was firm enough to walk on, but it still molded around his feet. He walked across until he reached the long, low pier. It certainly seemed stable enough, but the height worried him. The words of the woman in the motel came back to mind. She said that _“… some idiot jumped into merling-infested waters…” _, and with everything he knew about merlings, he wasn’t eager to meet them again.__

__Besides, the level of the pier was perfect for being swept away. A small slip, an unnoticed puddle, maybe a small shove? It was the perfect trap for merlings to bring even more people under. He wasn’t about to fall directly into their hands._ _

__Taking careful steps out onto the pier, Rickon stayed close to the center of the pier. He didn’t want his footsteps heard, so he stopped to remove his shoes and socks. With a brief thought, he quickly stripped back down to his underwear. If he remembered correctly, merfolk were often most active at night, playing into the paranoia of fisherman and luring people out to sea thinking that they found something else. Even though it wasn’t sunny out, the merfolk were like to be resting out of water. If he was quiet enough, Rickon could dive down and be out without attracting any attention whatsoever._ _

__Stepping out to the end of the pier, he decided to dive straight off the end of it. He wasn’t sure where he needed to search, but disrupting the water multiple times just to find his target wasn’t worth bringing any merling over. Taking a deep breath, Rickon leapt off the side, following his hands into the water._ _

__The rush of tiny bubbles surrounded him, and it took a long time for him to get his bearings and figure out where he needed to go. He had to come up for air faster than he expected. His lungs were protesting the intense usage, but he was on a mission. Ducking his head under, he searched about for anything that looked like it didn’t belong in the water. He found a dark blob suspended and floating, but definitely pinned to the ground. It was as much evidence as he needed. With some effort, he shifted himself over and kicked off the leg of the pier to help his distance._ _

__Swimming underwater was more exhausting than he remembered. Rickon had years of practice out in rougher waters than this, but it was a struggle to get himself to stay down. Still, he made it to his target, grabbing awkwardly at the floating material. He was pleased to find it was his jacket, pinned in a place by a sledgehammer. Grabbing onto both, Rickon kicked his way back to the surface. His time was running short, and he knew that his presence was likely known by now. Swimming back over to the pier, Rickon threw his jacket and the sledgehammer up before quickly hauling himself out. Just before his foot cleared the wood, something smooth and slimy brushed over his heel. Jerking his limb away, Rickon nearly tumbled off the other edge of the pier._ _

__A light round of laughter followed this, accompanied by gentle splashing of water. “You don’t want to stay?”_ _

__Rickon took a moment to gain his breath back before looking over the edge of the pier. A fully adolescent mermaid was staring up at him. Her features were darkened by the shadow that water provided. She looked innocent enough, even with unnaturally green hair that floated over the top of her ample bosom._ _

__“You even dressed up for me,” she said, moving closer. Her body rolled with the motion, though Rickon knew it wasn’t by choice. It was her only option without feet for steering._ _

__“Just stopping by,” Rickon said, smiling down at the mermaid. He ignored the comment about his clothes. He knew he wasn’t wearing much. “I need to leave soon.”_ _

__The mermaid pouted at him. “You should stay,” she said. “You look an awful lot like the boy Daddy’s looking for.”_ _

__Rickon shook his head. “Not me,” he said. “No one’s looking for me.”_ _

__The mermaid twirled in the water, obviously showing off her figure. She was full enough to float with ease, obviously curvy and attractive for any lonely sailor. “I am,” she insisted. “We could be married, just like the Grey King. Wouldn’t you like that?”_ _

__“Marriage isn’t in my future,” Rickon said, easing onto his feet. He needed to make a quick getaway before she found a way to pull him in. “Besides, I can’t have sex with a mermaid.”_ _

__Her expression immediately soured. All of her features changed at once: her nose flattened as scales covered her flesh, and her pupils dilated. Just as quickly everything turned back to normal._ _

__Rickon quickly leapt to his feet. He gathered up his things, not bothering to dress before rushing off. He hoped that the mermaid wasn’t slighted enough to follow him, but the splashes coming from behind him weren’t promising. There was nothing worse than a mermaid who risked coming on land to lure in her victims._ _

__“You don’t want me?”_ _

__Shutting his ears to the noise, Rickon kept on. He wouldn’t turn around. Not for anything._ _

__He didn’t even hear the footsteps, but he felt the soft press of breasts against his bare back as the mermaid enveloped him in a hug. He obviously wasn’t at his top speed, and she caught up to him before he was even off the beach._ _

__“Everyone wants me,” she purred in his ear. “I’m a catch.”_ _

__Rickon dropped his things, turning around a locking his arms around her waist. Her eyes went wide and Rickon smiled big. “I got one!” he called out. “I caught the mermaid!”_ _

__With far too much squirming, she shoved herself away from him. Rickon held on as much as he could, hoping to make his effort seem real. After a moment, she broke free, sprinting back to the waves and diving in without a thought._ _

__Rickon sighed. He knelt down to gather his things. He would put a good distance between himself and the water before stopping to get dressed. Trudging back the way he came, Rickon cursed his luck. Of course, his most intimate encounter of the past year was with someone who wanted his death more than anything else. Life on the road didn’t lend itself to much in the way of pleasure. Still, he suspected that the memory of the struggle would accompany him to bed for the next few months._ _

__Before hitting the main road again, Rickon quickly put all his clothes back on. He even slid on his soaking jacket, searching the pockets as he went. His things were right where he left them. He closed his fist over the two thin plates of metal before leaving them in the inside breast pocket and starting on again. He had one more stop to make, and he prayed that he could find transportation on the next leg of his journey._ _

__Hauling the sledgehammer over his shoulders, Rickon traced his steps back to the motel from earlier. It was a longer walk this time around, dragging on with the extra weight he picked up. His thoughts drifted aimlessly. The odd checklist he made drifting around with no conclusion in sight. After all, the last item might never be checked off._ _

__The same car was parked outside the motel when he got there. Rickon made his way over, trying to decide the best way to leave the sledgehammer without interacting with that woman again. He briefly considered bashing in the hood of her car before realizing that it was a 1967 Valyrian in very good condition. She might not know how to properly save a drowning victim, but she definitely had respect for her classic car. Dropping the sledgehammer outside the door, Rickon hit the door once before heading back to the main building._ _

__This time, someone was inside. He was an older, fat man, lounging behind the desk and making no move to sit up. He didn’t even acknowledge Rickon until he was leaning over the counter._ _

__“What do you want, kid?” he asked. “You lost?”_ _

__“I need to get to the harbor,” Rickon said. “You got any transportation?”_ _

__The old man shook his head. “No dice, kid,” he said. “Run off now.”_ _

__Ignoring the obvious slight about his age, Rickon spun on his heel. He knew better than to argue. No one believed him anyway. It wasn’t worth it. Outside, he didn’t even pause. He kept going, thinking that maybe he try persuading a mermaid to take him to a boat, seeing as it would be better than trusting the other humans around. He went back to the street, hoping for a car to come by. No one seemed to be out in this part of the world, and Rickon walked the empty road for a long while before spotting something vaguely familiar._ _

__With a burst of energy, Rickon hurried over to the thick bush. He reached in without care, pulling out a heavy duffel bag. Rickon unzipped the bag, pulling out clothes in significantly better shape than what he was currently wearing. Moving into the foliage, he found cover for himself before stripping down to nothing and putting on clothes that weren’t stiff from rain or ocean water. It was extremely refreshing, and Rickon felt instantly more alive than before._ _

__He kept his wet jacket on, but shoved his boots in the bag and opted to walk barefoot for the time being. The boots would dry out in time, but the clothes weren’t worth saving. Not when he was heading home. He kept them in a bundle until he passed a dumpster, checking all the pockets before tossing them and continuing on his way._ _

__By the time vehicles started passing him, Rickon was already close to the city limits, seeing signs signaling that the harbor was coming up soon. Hefting the duffel bag higher on his shoulder, Rickon kept on. Once he booked passage and got a cot, he’d be on his way. It’d be a long journey, but he’d be home within the month._ _

__Only a few people were out, milling the docks and hauling various cargo aboard ships of varying sizes. Rickon found his way to a captain, hoping to plead his case without having to deal with any other issues. He just wanted a place to stay and a long nap._ _

__“We’ve got to dock in two ports prior,” the captain told him. “It’ll add a week onto the journey. You can find better ships for your plans out on the docks if you have the coin for it.”_ _

__“That’s for the month, though, right?” Rickon asked, following the captain around the deck._ _

__The man sighed, giving Rickon an even look. “I don’t want any trouble aboard this vessel.”_ _

__“No trouble,” Rickon promised. “I’ll spend the whole time sleeping and eating. You won’t even know I’m there.”_ _

__“Pay when we land,” the captain said. He fished out a key from his pocket, tossing it over to Rickon. He quickly explained to Rickon how to get to his small cabin, where to switch that key with another man for his actual room key. “You’ve got a long trip ahead of you.”_ _

__“Worth it to get home,” Rickon said, holding the key tight in his hand._ _

__“Skagos is home?” the captain questioned. “How’d you get out here?”_ _

__Rickon sighed, starting off. “It’s a long story.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rickeen Shipweek is coming is the works for this year! Click here to vote on the week of the event and the types of prompts you’d like to see!](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/R6Z2QMB) As always, any and all suggestions are welcome. Feel free to shoot me a message anywhere you can find me.


	3. Chapter 3

After another shower, Shireen sat on the edge of the bed with her damp hair piled over her shoulders as she scrolled through her phone. The internet was shoddy at this motel, but it was better than being blind out on the road. With a sigh, she leaned onto her bent knee, scrolling through her phone. None of her searches were coming up with results, but she hadn’t expected much.

The man she pulled from the harbor had little on him, and it didn’t seem likely that she would be able to find him searching for his first name alone. Scanning through all the pictures was exhausting work, leading to a lot of tangents that didn’t help at all. She even had a hard time remembering what color his eyes and hair were. It seemed likely that her memory wouldn’t even be correct given that he had been soaking wet for most of the time.

Falling back to the pillows, Shireen placed her arm over her eyes, trying to block out the light in the room. Blindly placing her phone on the small table, she took a few deep breaths before sitting up quickly. Wringing her hair out with the towel, Shireen quickly laid it out over a chair before crossing the room. She hauled up her duffel bag and tossed it on her bed. With deliberate, practiced motions, she emptied the bag out into neat piles. Then, she refolded all of her clothes before tucking them back into the places where they always were.

She changed out of her current outfit as she went on, making sure that she was dressed for whatever day was ahead of her. Eventually, she’d have to make it back into town to find a paper. Now that the merling incident was done, she needed a case to track. She went out to her car, keeping her bag slung over one shoulder. On her way out, she tripped over something, but caught her weight with a quick step.

“What the—?” she turned around, finding a sledgehammer on the floor between the door and her car. There was no note or any sort of message left, but Shireen had a feeling she knew who delivered it. Bending down, she placed the duffel bag on the ground before taking the sledgehammer in her hands.

Her hands remembered the shaft of the weapon, but she instinctively went up to the steel head to run her fingers along the side of the hammer. Sure enough, she found the small grooves in the steel from where she scraped it several times over trying to dig a small child out from a fallen building. Pressing her lips tight together, Shireen pushed the memory further back before taking it with her to the trunk of her car. She slid in the duffel bag, tucking it into a corner before. The sledgehammer went back to the trunk as well, into the front compartment with all the other tools. Shireen leaned in to grab out her other duffel bag, pulling it out before heading back into her room.

Very systematically, she emptied this bag, as well. Shireen set out all of her weaponry across the bed. It was organized out by type of ammunition, and she very specifically went through the cleaning and sorting process to make certain she wasn’t lacking anything of importance. As she went to fetch a chair, she thought back to her sledgehammer again. Slumping into her chair, Shireen grabbed her phone. She quickly dialed a contact before turning on the speaker and starting the cleaning process.

After a few rings, there was a longer pause. Shireen glanced over to see that the call had been answered. She picked up her phone and put it to her ear just in time to hear a familiar, “How are you getting on, dear?”

Shireen smiled into the line, brushing her hair behind an ear. “I’m good, Davos,” she said. “How are you? And the kids?”

“All’s well over here,” Davos replied. The signs of his chuckle and general happiness went right into Shireen’s bones, and she felt revitalized just hearing his voice. “The boys miss you. Marya keeps asking when you’ll be back for dinner.”

Though her smile fell, Shireen was still touched that they were asking for her back. She swallowed, gathering her thoughts. “I’m doing really well on the road,” she said. “It’s better to just pop into towns and leave before anyone starts asking questions.”

“What are they asking, even?” Davos asked.

“Oh, the usual,” Shireen said, “but once the fifth town starts demanding your death, it’s better to just move on.”

Davos scoffed loudly. “For the greyscale, still?”

Shireen sighed. “It’s worse up North,” she told him. “I can’t even find hostels to stay in.”

“That’s why you need to come back,” Davos insisted. “Your room’s still all made up. The boys will be happy to have you. I even found a friend in town who will hire you. Everything’s set.”

“I’m busy, Davos,” Shireen tried, hoping to keep the truth of the matter from him. “I’m working on a case, actually. I wanted to know if you could help me out.”

“I’m retired, Shireen.” Davos’s voice was more hushed now, and a door closed somewhere behind him. “It’s too dangerous for me. I have a family. I have _you_. Just come back and we can move on.”

Shireen steeled herself. “I’m not dragging you back in,” she insisted, “and the boys don’t have to be involved. It’s a missing person case… I think he’s underage…”

Davos sighed loudly. He grumbled on the line for a while before she heard the familiar slumping into his plush chair. “What’s the name?”

“Rickon,” Shireen said.

“That’s all?” Davos asked. “No last name? Nothing else to go off of?”

“He’s in his teens,” Shireen offered. She wracked her brain for details. “Fairly tall… _definitely_ Northern, brown hair, light eyes, always wears this one jacket…”

Davos cleared his throat gently. “You’re not being very descriptive here.”

“It’s a military jacket,” Shireen said, drawing in on his reaction and hoping her guess wasn’t far off. “Long, black, no hood, lots of pockets.”

“You want me to find a kid based on his jacket?” Davos asked.

Shireen shrugged, getting comfortable in her chair. “You’ve worked miracles before.”

“Do you want to pause your case to work one down here?” Davos asked hopefully.

“Jobs aren’t cases,” Shireen reminded him. “I get on just fine.”

“Not a job,” Davos said quickly. “Someone came calling after you. Another tricky case—ill kid. They think it’s greyscale.”

Shireen’s heart fell and she felt the blood rush from her face. “How long?” she asked quickly.

“Only just yesterday, she came,” Davos said. “She doesn’t know for sure yet, but the chances don’t look good.”

Quickly, Shireen started counting on her fingers. She was trying to remember how long she had survived before another power had to intervene. “I’ve been looking into it,” Shireen confessed. “Nothing’s been proven to work… but I’ll do what I can. It’ll be a while, though. I need to make a stop.”

“Any help you can give will be worth it,” Davos said. “Take the time you can. I’ll start a search on this Rickon fellow.”

“Thanks, Davos,” Shireen said. She started up a mental note of everything she needed to do. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Take care.”

“You, too,” Davos said. “Stay safe.”

Shireen tossed her phone aside. She quickly went back to cleaning out her weapons, trying to think through all of the references and sources she’d been accumulating for years. Nothing was conclusive, and she hoped more than anything that Davos was wrong. The only possibility she could offer would likely cost her too much time to make any difference. Shoving her things back into their place, Shireen found herself even more frustrated as she misplaced her weapons more than once.

With a groan, she grabbed her phone, typed out a single word, and sent the text message. She rearranged her bag properly, knowing that time was of the essence. She needed to pack up her car and find transportation if she didn’t get a response soon. Rushing outside, Shireen packed her car, quickly striding through her room to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Her phone chimed as she looked down at the fallen bag of cold fast food. Simultaneously, she knelt down for the food while retrieving her phone.

_White Harbor. Dock 7. Drive on._

Shireen smiled down at the text message. Even if the trip wasn’t paid for, she was thankful for the opportunity to help. Most of her timing was now reliant on a ship, though, and she worried about how that would change the outcome of this trip. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, Shireen blindly reached into the bag and pulled out the burger. She took a large bite as she went to her car and started it up.

Eating as much as she could, Shireen drove from the motel with as much speed as she could risk. She finished her burger quickly, going over for some fries before deciding to toss the lot completely. She didn’t want soggy, almost rubbery potatoes first thing in the morning. At least the burger had been tolerable. Shireen almost swore to give up fries entirely, but knew that she wouldn’t be able to afford a diet like that.

Shireen wiped off her fingers, going back to driving comfortably and navigated her way to the docks. She drove slowly through the crowded passageways, loading up an email that she had just received and rolling down her window. The image loaded just as she rolled to a stop outside her dock.

“Papers?” someone asked, only just leaning toward her. He immediately recoiled, staring at her face. “Sorry—just—”

Shireen rolled her eyes, holding out her phone.

With extreme trepidation, he reached for her phone. Using only one finger, he moved the screen up just slightly before scanning it with a handheld device. “You’re all set,” he said, stepping away. “Just pull up and leave your keys in the ignition.”

“It’s a stick shift,” Shireen said flatly. She had been the only one of her cousins to learn to drive stick shift, earning her the car. It wasn’t common for most to go through the trouble of learning it.

“Uh.” The attendant looked lost. “Maybe just stay in the car…”

“Right,” Shireen said. She turned her attention back to her car, moving it forward and following directions from several people to get her car securely onto the ship. She pocketed her keys instead of leaving them where they requested them, leaving her phone number in place of them. She definitely wasn’t going to leave free access to her car on this ship. Heading back to the upper levels, Shireen sought out someone with a clipboard, hoping for more information.

“What’s the itinerary?” she asked, rearranging the possessions she opted to keep with her.

“Landing in Skagos in three days,” the man said, staring down at his clipboard. “We should be docked there for four… then a one-day stop in Gulltown before landing in Dragonstone.”

“Thanks,” Shireen said quickly. She rushed off before the man could look up.

Eleven days. Shireen had a tight time limit that didn’t seem like it would be enough. She even doubted she could drive to Dragonstone fast enough, but it wouldn’t be worth it if she couldn’t do anything. Resigning herself to the facts of the matter, Shireen found her way through the ship, searching for her room.

By no means was she going to make herself comfortable. If she was going to be stuck on a ship for three days, she was going to fill her research with every snippet of information she could find and pray to every god of every doctrine that she could make a difference in a child’s life.

 

 

 

 

 

Coming off the ship on Skagos, Shireen hauled her bag further up her shoulder. The few leads she found were promising, but based almost entirely on legend. No experimentation had been done, and Shireen wasn’t keen on being the first to fail. It was currently her only option, especially since she wasn’t going to try the same method her father had to cure her. Pulling out her phone, Shireen checked the address again, hoping that at least some of her plan would work out.

Tucking her phone away, Shireen pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. It was freezing this far north, and even though the sun was out, Shireen could see her breath in the air. She started forward, leaving the edge of the docks and working her way toward the town. The map showed that her destination wasn’t very far, but it didn’t show her that she’d be walking uphill a majority of the time. Taking a deep breath, Shireen started on, taking in her surroundings.

It was her first time on Skagos, and everything here felt foreign to her. Where the horizon wasn’t water, it was tall, jagged mountain. In the few glimpses she saw beyond that, it seemed to be mostly dense forest. Though Shireen knew it was industrialized, there was a massive movement from the people here to keep their forests untouched.

The oddest sensation was that Shireen didn’t feel like an outsider here. It seemed like there was no one here for leisure. Everyone appeared to be rough and ready for anything. Glancing at the people she passed, scars were present on most, but tattoos and piercings seemed to be in trend here. For once, her trench coat and combat boots didn’t make her stand out. It seemed like a high possibility that most of the people on Skagos had chosen her career path.

At the crest of the hill, Shireen took another moment to look around. It didn’t look to be a significant hill with all the buildings that were around the streets, but she was feeling it in her legs. She was just about on the edge of the city that ended rather abruptly. She couldn’t see her destination anywhere in sight, so she pulled out her phone again to check the address. The route was leading off to a small trail into the forest, and Shireen hoped it was accurate.

Heading off in that direction, Shireen walked while staring down at her phone, using it as a guide. She went until she was precisely on the path highlighted on the screen. Looking up, she saw that the path was mostly blocked off by foliage. Climbing through, Shireen continued on, hoping for a building to come into view. After a long while, one did. It was entirely made out of wood, and it almost blended in to the forest behind it. Somehow, there were trucks and motorcycles parked outside even though there didn’t appear to be any roads leading over here.

Shireen went up to the front door, glancing at the sign that read _The Wilding_. The names matched, and she hoped the rest of her source was good, too. There was only so much faith she could put in message boards that were years old. The inside looked exactly as she expected. The lighting was poor, and the floorboards were chipping in several places. The wooden fixtures continued throughout, and the only smooth surface appeared to be the bar that was being wiped down by an older woman.

She didn’t particularly look like she belonged behind a bar. Her hair was cut sloppily and fell about her shoulders rather than being pulled back. She was dressed simply, but she had the same rough demeanor about her that everyone else had. Her attention was caught by someone across the bar, and she bent down quickly before plopping down a bottle of beer in front of them.

Walking up, Shireen ignored the lingering looks she got, finding that most of the patrons here were older men. A few teenagers gave her quick glances, and she suspected that they were here for the under-aged drinking they could get away with. Dropping her bag to the floor, Shireen chose a barstool for herself, feeling an odd sense of relief in her system.

“What can I get you?” the woman asked, not quite looking at her.

Shireen leaned onto the counter. “I’m looking for someone named Erryk,” she said. “I heard he owns this place.”

“Used to,” the woman said, sliding another drink across the bar. Then, she made her way across from Shireen. “He’s been dead a while. I’m the only one here now. Anything I can get you?”

“A room,” Shireen said. She tried to keep the question out of her voice. She was on a mission.

The woman narrowed her eyes. She slowly retrieved another bottle, pulling off the top and setting it in front of Shireen. “Don’t mention anything,” she said softly. “Just keep that in your hands and stay here until close.”

Shireen nodded, watching the woman walk away. Sliding her feet around, Shireen moved her bag firmly under the bar. Something told her to hide all evidence that she didn’t belong here. She already looked fine, only her supplies would give her away. Taking the drink in her hand, Shireen took a small sip. The wear of travel seemed to hit her for the first time ever, and Shireen wondered what spell was over this place to affect her like this.

It was a few hours more before the place started to clear out. Shireen sat dutifully behind her empty bottle, trying to keep herself entertained by making lists of everything she needed to accomplish while she was here. She had already given up on counting the patrons coming and going, and she was almost ready to doze off when the woman finally came back. A fair amount of eavesdropping told Shireen that her name was Osha, but she wasn’t quite so bold as to open a conversation that way.

“So you need a room at a run-down bar in Skagos, is that it?” Osha asked her.

“Yes,” Shireen said. “I’m here for—”

Osha silenced her with a raised hand. “Don’t give me details,” she said. She paused for a long moment, taking in a deep breath. “How long?”

“Three days,” Shireen said firmly.

Tightening her lips into a thin line, Osha stared down at her. “It won’t work,” she said. “You’ve obviously already survived. Take what you have and keep moving on. Nothing’s going to fix your greyscale.”

“It’s not for me,” Shireen said. She straightened up, hoping to match the level of seriousness behind her words. “I’m not here for me. Someone else needs help. I can’t save them without this chance.”

Osha sighed, giving her a sidelong look. “A child?”

Shireen nodded.

They were both quiet for a moment, only the gentle tap of Osha’s fingers on the bar making any noise. After a long while, Osha signaled for Shireen to follow her. Shireen picked up her bag, moved around the bar, and went up a narrow set of stairs after the woman. Pulling out her keys, Osha went all the way to the back room.

“Everything else is taken for the night,” Osha said. “You’re welcome to my son’s room. He won’t be in for a while. I think it’ll be the most helpful for you. If you run into any trouble, tell anyone that you need to find Osha. That’s me. Most folk around here know me.”

“Thank you,” Shireen mumbled. Her instinct to reject such personal measures and kindness was building up in her. She definitely didn’t want to stay in someone else’s room, but she was out of options this late. Besides this was her best bet. “I won’t touch anything.”

Osha snorted. “Help yourself to whatever you need,” she said. “I’m in the front room myself. Breakfast is served at sunrise, if you’re up that early.”

Shireen moved past her into the room, dropping her bag to the floor. “I’m hoping to be out before then,” she said. “An early start was recommended.”

“The time makes no difference,” Osha said. “They’ll come or they won’t. I only know one person that unicorns favor.”

With a small smile, Osha handed over the key before leaving Shireen alone for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The poll to vote for prompts for Rickeen Shipweek 2017 is up!](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/QJ3VYR7) If you feel like participating, or just want to influence the prompts for this year, please take some time to vote!


	4. Chapter 4

Bad weather was typically something universally hated. However, Rickon found that he was rather fond of torrential storms, especially when they sent his ship off course. Docking in Skagos weeks earlier than expected was definitely the highlight of this trip. The announcement that they would be landing in Skagos first instead of last, cutting his personal time spent travelling significantly, sent Rickon in a much better mood, not that anyone else could tell. He was in his room a majority of the time, keeping his promise of sleeping most days and only coming out to eat. The only change in his plan happened when he felt particularly lazy the second day, so he started up a short exercise regimen to be completed before his daily shower.

He was packed and on deck at the first sight of Skagos, leaning far over the edge of the ship to let the sea spray hit his face. The jagged silhouette of the island sent a feeling of calm through Rickon, and he fell to his arms, wishing that he could urge the vessel on faster. The ship moved counter to his wishes, slowing down to navigate the rough waters that always surrounded his home island. It was a long time to dock, and Rickon almost jumped overboard to swim the way back.

With the load he was carrying, he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. He just hoped that his single, hurried voicemail to his best friend had been received. After all, someone had to show up to pay his fare for sailing abroad this ship, and he couldn’t exactly ask Osha to do it for a third time in a row. Still, nothing could stop the bubbling feeling of warmth that came from knowing that he would be spending the night in a familiar bed with clean clothes after a hot shower. Grinning into his arms, Rickon watched the horizon until it was consumed with land, waiting for the moment when he could leave the ship.

“Wait until the ship’s docked,” someone warned him.

Rickon turned to the woman behind him. She had the look of sailing about her, enough so that Rickon was willing to bet that she only spent a handful of days on land every year. All of her features looked like they were made up by the sea and wind. Her short, black hair was tangled all around her head, but she definitely didn’t mind. After a moment Rickon smiled at her.

“Are you staying aboard?” he asked her.

She gave him a small smile, joining him against the railing. “Going to another ship,” she said. “I got a call to head back home. It’s a long way to Pyke.”

“I think it’s shorter across land,” Rickon offered.

Her head fell back with hearty laughter. “That’s no way to travel,” she said. “I manage at sea much better.”

Rickon nodded appreciatively. “Always good to be going home, too.”

The woman gave him an appraising look. “Is this it for you?” she asked. “Home?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled out. A gust of wind caught his jacket, and Rickon settled into it. He turned back to the waves, looking at the rippling water.

There was a moment of silence between them. Wind cut through the air with unrelenting speed, sending the sea water higher up the edge of the ship, though neither of them shied away from it. The docks were getting closer, but the anticipation of it calmed Rickon instead of making him anxious.

“Will you be staying a while?” the woman asked.

Rickon sighed. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I just see where I’m needed and go from there.”

She nodded slowly, carefully pushing away from railing. She stretched out her arms, moving slightly away. After rummaging through her pocket, she pulled out a small business card that had definitely been drenched through a few times too many. She handed it out to Rickon, and he took it tentatively, reading out the contact information for 

_Asha Greyjoy_  
Black Wind  
_Captain_

“Give me a call if you’re heading out sooner,” she told him. “I travel fast, but you seem good company. I’d even pay you if you were willing to work.”

“I usually do,” Rickon admitted. He pocketed the card, placing it into a secure part of his jacket. “Most don’t want my kind aboard.”

“Some don’t appreciate the skill a well-trained hunter can provide,” Asha said. She smiled at him, looking a little smug. “I don’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

“Rickon,” he said, holding out a hand to her.

She smiled at him, taking his hand with a firm shake. “Asha.”

Rickon grinned as she walked away, hoping that he’d manage to cross paths with her again in the future. Something about her demeanor told him that there was a bigger story waiting to come out, but she needed someone who would understand. If anything, just consistent transportation around the country would be worth it. After all, he didn’t know where his final destination would be.

The ship docked safely, and Rickon leaned off the side of it in search of a familiar truck. When the chipped paint and obvious denting came into view, Rickon smiled to himself before running off to find a crewman.

“My payment’s here,” he said. “I just need to run down to grab it.”

“Collateral?” the crewman asked.

Rickon dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He placed it in the outstretched hand and ran off immediately. The crewman had no way of knowing the phone was too waterlogged to work again, but Rickon wasn’t willing to leave anything of value with him. Heading down to the docks, Rickon wove through the crowd to slam himself up against the side of the beat-up truck.

“You got the cash?” he asked. Then, he took in the scene before him. “What happened to you?”

His roommate had obviously tried very hard to fix himself up. Torrhen’s hair looked like a completely solid mass on top of his head, and he smelled grossly of aftershave despite his face showing no efforts of a blade. His clothes were almost let off by his heavy jacket that was covering up most of the mess, but Rickon caught a brightly-colored shirt end somehow tangled up around his belt.

Torrhen looked unconcerned with all of it. He smiled broadly at Rickon, handing over a wad of cash. “Quickly,” he urged. “I gotta go.”

“Back home, I hope,” Rickon said. “Torrhen, you look like you’ve driven through your own personal hell.”

Shaking his head, Torrhen waved Rickon off. “Just mind yourself,” he said. “I need to be off. I’m meeting someone special.”

Rickon couldn’t stop his concern from showing on his face. “Dressed like that?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Torrhen waved Rickon away before driving off slowly and leaving Rickon in a stunned haze.

The confusion was so deep in Rickon’s mind, he didn’t even realize that he hadn’t asked for a ride or a key to get back home. However, Torrhen had paid him far too much money. Rickon quickly counted up what he needed before meeting up with the crewman from before and paying for his fare. After retrieving his useless phone, Rickon finally left the docks on foot to find his way back home.

He was back in familiar territory now. He had options. There were almost too many, considering that he had only one goal before this. The back of his mind was still preoccupied with whatever Torrhen was up to. It was entirely out-of-character, and Rickon worried that he’d have to work a case on his friend before getting anything else done. The only way forward there was clear, especially since Rickon didn’t have a key to his home.

His feet had been moving to his real destination long before he was even aware of it. Rickon pleasantly found himself heading closer and closer to familiar territory, letting himself get lost in being able to not think about what he was doing for the first time in months. He had spent far too much time being overly cautious about his steps, but Skagos was so familiar that Rickon could step out into the streets without looking around. He knew the pattern of traffic well enough to avoid getting hit or yelled at.

By the time he arrived at the bar and guesthouse that Osha owned, Rickon was ready to simultaneously sprint off into the woods and sleep for days on end. The early hour made it so the bar was almost entirely empty. Only one patron was sitting at the bar, holding a drink close to his chest. Rickon knew that it was spiked with alcohol, especially since he knew the man. 

“Ryk,” Rickon called out. He walked over quickly, dropping his bag down with a satisfying THUMP. He slid into the seat next to him, leaning onto his elbow. “Have you seen my mom?”

The older man took a large swallow of the steaming beverage, giving him an appraising look. “Thought you went missing,” he said. The signs of sleep clearly had not yet left him. He let out a small grunt before turning back to his drink. “She’s doing the washing up. Lenne’s not in yet.”

“Lenne’s right here!” a sharp voice called back.

A young girl with a long, dark braid walked out of the kitchen. She looked peeved at Ryk, poised to snatch an empty cup from his hands. Instead, she tucked a dish towel into her apron before leaning over to Rickon.

“Have _you_ seen Osha?” he tried.

Lenne shook her head. “Reckon she’s out back,” she said, pointing with a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s been going out in the mornings… But if you’re asking, then you must be Rickon.”

“Sure am,” Rickon replied, holding out a hand to her. “Nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand with a firm shake that he didn’t think she was capable of. Her stature was far too small for that kind of presence, but Rickon appreciated the effort. “Heard I got your job,” she said. “Osha keeps talking about you.”

Rickon shrugged. “Probably mad at me,” he said, hopping off the barstool. “Better go get my punishment.”

He gave Lenne a small wave and went off, finding the backdoor unlocked as it usually was. The small area that was tended to seemed to be in much the same shape as before. All the foliage was cut back to allow for a small sitting area, a fire pit, and a large grill for barbecuing. In one of the chairs, Osha was reclined. She had moved the chair into the one sliver of sunlight, and she was enjoying a nap this mid-morning. Rickon walked over slowly, wondering if he should wake her up. Really, he just needed her key to the box that contained all of the guest keys.

Leaning over her, Rickon searched for a pocket that looked like that it might contain what he needed. When he was just about to lose balance, Osha snatched his wrist and pulled him onto her lap. Rickon let out a small sound of annoyance, biting down his moment of fear.

“Think you’re sneaking off without a proper greeting?” she asked. Her grip on him was secure, but in a way that made Rickon want to stay there.

“I think I’m a little too old for this,” he replied, squirming away.

Osha tightened her hold on him, cradling him against her chest. “Nonsense,” she said. “You’re not too old after being gone for ten months. I could have had a child and you wouldn’t know.”

Rickon rolled his eyes, scoffing loudly. “Yeah, cause _that’s_ going to happen,” he said. “And it hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s also been three months since you called,” she said, leveling another look at him. “I thought my next call would be letting me know you’d been found in a ditch somewhere.”

“I’m not dead!” Rickon argued. “And it was a harbor…”

Osha froze. Her look slowly turned to a glare. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Rickon shrugged, moving away to get a seat on the table. “Old man Manderly started asking about me,” he said, trying to brush it off with as little information as possible. “I investigated.”

Osha’s glare grew darker. “Those are merling-infested waters.”

“Yeah,” Rickon said dismissively. “I found that out the hard way. Someone pulled me out. I’m fine.”

“Well,” Osha said firmly. She stood up and wiped her hands off on her pants. “I’m glad you met someone with sense.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Rickon stood up. He walked directly into Osha, hugging her tight. It was difficult to act the child here, especially since he was too tall to hide against her ribcage. Rickon settled for bowing his head into her shoulder. Osha rubbed at his hair, pressing a small kiss to his temple.

“I missed you, Mom,” Rickon murmured out.

“I missed you, too,” Osha said. She pulled away, holding him at arm’s length and looking him up and down. She gave him a smile. Then, she started back inside. “You could do with a bath. I’m guessing you need a new phone, too?”

“Didn’t call for a reason,” Rickon said, following after her.

Osha shook her head, walking into the kitchen and putting some glasses away. “Once you get that sorted, go check in on your dog,” she suggested. “He’s been coming by more lately. If he howls again, the guests might start getting suspicious.”

Rickon frowned, going to grab his bag. “Shaggydog hasn’t been recognized yet.”

“We haven’t had another hunter lodging here before,” Osha replied. She kept going about her business as if she hadn’t said anything significant, but Rickon froze.

He turned to Osha slowly, expecting her to retract her statement. When she didn’t, he almost jumped over the counter at her. “You let a hunter stay here?”

“She’s not been around much,” Lenne said, walking into view with a pile of dishes in her arms. “Leaves early every morning and gets in late. I think she’s chasing after unicorns.”

Rickon stifled a swear, hoping that his annoyance wasn’t too clear on his face. “Just… give me my room key and I’ll take care of it.”

“Can’t,” Osha said simply. Rickon prayed that he didn’t know the reason why. “I gave it to her.”

Dumping his bag on the counter, Rickon stormed off to the back door again. “Then, I’ll deal with this _now_ and get my room back.”

“Her ship doesn’t depart for a few days more,” Osha called.

“I can take care of that, too,” Rickon yelled back. He kept on until he was well into the forest, feeling the rush of anger leave him almost instantly. A strong part of his brain knew that Osha didn’t make the decision flippantly. She knew much more about the situation than he did, and she had the best read of character that Rickon had ever known. Obviously, she had her reasons, and Rickon would find out exactly what those were in good time.

Rickon wasn’t even fully focused on walking when he crashed into a very solid, warm mass. The impact wasn’t what caught him off guard. It was the immediate fall onto the bulk of his familiar that threw him completely off.

“Yikes, Shaggy,” Rickon said. He ran his hands through the thick fur, moving onto his knees. Generally, his direwolf couldn’t surprise him. It was only the scattered thoughts that allowed Shaggydog to sneak up on him. The direwolf was curled around Rickon, his snout shoved into his hair as he sniffed eagerly at him. Rickon briefly recalled all of his dangerous encounters of the past few months, and he wondered what unintentional anxiety he had caused Shaggydog. “We’re okay, boy,” he murmured. “You’re coming with me next time. I promise.”

Shaggydog licked his face before getting to his feet. He gave Rickon a steady look, and Rickon slowly got to his feet while making eye contact. Once he was back to being completely upright, Shaggydog bolted into the forest. Without a thought, Rickon raced after his direwolf. He knew that there was something he needed to see, but Shaggydog was obviously hiding whatever it was from him intentionally.

Slowing his pace, Rickon took his time weaving through the trees. The ground on Skagos wasn’t as level as what he had been walking, and he didn’t want to risk tripping so soon after his return. However much Rickon wasn’t in the mood to be wandering through the forest—he very much wanted to sink into a hot bath at this exact moment—he could feel that Shaggydog wouldn’t let him rest for any amount of time before showing him whatever was ahead. Pressing on, Rickon tried to relax as he went, but Shaggydog’s calm sent Rickon in the opposite direction.

Not too far ahead, he spotted an opening in the trees, and he knew that Shaggydog was resting the foliage just in front of the clearing. Rickon scowled, heading over. He looked up to the sky, seeing that the omnipresent grey wouldn’t break for days more, then he stepped into the clearing.

It was empty.

True to Rickon’s memory of the forest, the clearing was completely covered in overgrown grasses, sprinkled with the occasional flowering plant that was struggling to survive. The perimeter was drawn with gnarled trees, winding around each other and almost entirely devoid of leaves. Just as always, it was difficult to see much beyond that. With a frown on his face, Rickon turned back to Shaggydog, ready to tell him off, when a voice came from behind him.

“Are you following me?”

Rickon turned around quickly. His hand automatically went to his waist, searching for a weapon that wasn’t there. Everything was back at the bar. The tension rose in him, even if he let his hand fall. Squaring his shoulders, Rickon looked over at the woman that appeared from the grasses. He knew her.

“It’s _you_?” he responded. He still couldn’t quite make sense of what he was seeing. There was no way he ever expected those aspects of his life to collide. Then, Osha’s words came back to her. Of course. _Unicorns._

“Why are you following me?” she asked, slowly getting to her feet. She looked extremely apprehensive, looking around. “I’m trying to work.”

Rickon scoffed. “On what? Napping?” he asked. She wasn’t going to accomplish anything she was after. Definitely not anytime soon. “I hear you have my bed back at the guesthouse. It’s more comfortable than the ground. Trust me.”

“ _You’re_ Osha’s son?” she asked back. Disbelief was written clear across her face. She looked slightly disgusted at the thought. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms at him. “Whatever. I have work to do.”

Stepping further into the clearing, Rickon walked over to where he knew a fallen log was. He settled into the comfort that being in familiar territory provided him. Rickon took a seat on the log, looking around. “Yeah, I heard,” he said casually. He turned to her and tried to gauge her reaction. “Unicorns, right? I’m a little surprised, to be honest. You didn’t seem that bothered by it last time. I thought your greyscale wasn’t spreading anymore.”

She took a small step back, looking a little annoyed. “It’s not for me,” she shot back quickly. Straightening her spine, she looked down at him. “If you must know, it’s for a child that could _die_ without help.”

Rickon gave her an even look, waiting for the façade to break. When she didn’t back down, he knew he needed to take a swing. “Don’t lie,” he said bluntly. He could see the argument building, but he cut it off. “If you were only here to help a child, you’d be gone by now.”

The only side of her face flushed slightly, and Rickon knew that he hit the right nerve. That told him everything he needed to know. He decided to keep going.

“It’s not even proven to work,” he said, leaning onto his knees. Rickon flicked at a spot on his pants before going on. “No one’s ever been close to testing it out. They know, too. Unicorns don’t respond to any selfish intentions, no matter what the end goal is.”

She looked mad now. Her hands were curled into tight fists at her side, and she looked ready to pounce on him.

Rickon resisted smirking with satisfaction. He knew his triumph would come later. “You’re probably better off with whatever method cured you,” he said. “At least that one worked.”

The tension fell out of her, and Rickon sensed he said something wrong. Suddenly, she looked overcome with sadness and grief. However, she just shook her head. “The cost is too high,” she murmured. “I-I… couldn’t.”

Biting his tongue from asking the obvious question, Rickon took an alternative route. “Just cut your losses, then,” he said. “If a unicorn doesn’t freely give anything, taking from one will do more harm than good.”

“How do you know?” she snapped back. The small snippet of fury was back in her eyes. It seemed as if it was always there, ready to boil over the surface.

“Because…” Rickon got up, walking to the edge of the clearing. He held out a hand into the foliage, waiting for the familiar crunch of twigs. From the thicket of trees, a young, small unicorn walked toward him. It didn’t have the same pearly shine that others had, and he caught a sprinkling of golden hair on the tips of its coat. Even the horn was shorter than he expected, and Rickon knew that he had yet to meet this particular creature. It was curious enough, walking into his hand and smelling at it eagerly. Stoking its muzzle, Rickon beckoned it into the clearing, hearing the sharp gasp from behind him. “For some reason, they really like me.”

He dug through his pockets, letting her stare at him in wonder. He hadn’t been prepared for a meeting, so he hadn’t come prepared with any of the usual treats that he brought them. A small crumpling of plastic caught his ears, and the young unicorn nosed at his hand through the thick fabric of his jacket.

“Hold on,” he said softly, using his other hand to stroke the creature. He pulled out a packaged sugar cube from his breakfast a few days ago and carefully pulled it open without breaking the cube. Holding it out on his palm, Rickon offered it to the unicorn. It looked around like a child who knew it would be caught doing something bad before sniffing intently at his hand. Rickon rolled his eyes. “Go on, then.”

As if afraid to harm him, the unicorn very carefully picked up the sugar cube between his lips, tickling Rickon’s palm. He lifted a hand to stroke its muzzle again, but the unicorn enthusiastically shoved its snout into Rickon’s ear in thanks. 

“How did you—?” The woman looked baffled. She was extremely mystified by the unicorn, frozen in place, as if she wasn’t certain if she was allowed to move closer.

Rickon turned to beckon her forward. “If you don’t want anything from them, they know,” he told her. “I think they prefer that company. Sometimes, I bring them snacks.”

She swallowed loud enough for Rickon to hear, now close by his side. “I, um, I brought them apples… and hay,” she murmured out. “You know, like—”

“Horses?” Rickon finished. “They’re not really that similar to them. They’ll eat the other snacks, but unicorns prefer weirder things… mistletoe berries, larkspur, nightshade, hemlock…”

“Aren’t those poisonous?” she asked. Disbelief was clear in her voice.

Rickon nodded. “They probably just like that they can purify any poison,” he said. “It’s a great display of their power. _Never_ eat anything a unicorn eats.”

There was a moment of silence. The woman was still stepping forward slowly, holding out her hand tentatively. “Could I give it an apple?”

“Sure.” Rickon dropped his hands, turning to face her. He watched as she dug a small red apple from her bag, holding it out to him. Rickon took her by the wrists, keeping the apple in her palm and pulling her closer to the unicorn.

The young creature took a few steps back before slowly coming forward and sniffing at the apple. Rickon urged her forward just a little bit more before the unicorn took the apple away and started crunching it. At his side, the woman deflated as she watched the unicorn.

“So they know…” she whispered to herself. “I mean, I’m _curious_ , but I don’t really want or need to try. I wouldn’t, though. Not when there’s a child…”

Rickon gave her an even look. Regardless of her intention, he had nothing but information to give her here. Even with his experience out in the field, there was no source that pointed to a cure for greyscale. He still didn’t know how this woman was still alive next to him. Instead, Rickon tried for a different tactic.

“Where are you headed with it, anyway?” he asked, going back to sit on the log.

“Cape Wrath,” she said, turning back to him. “My ship doesn’t depart for three more days, though.”

Rickon shook his head. “You’re out of time.”

“No,” she said quickly. “It should take about a month. That’s how long it was before I… I can get there with a few days to spare.”

“That’s risky,” Rickon said. “You should head out soon.”

She sighed, taking a seat at his side. “I was going to, if I could get something to help. But this is the first unicorn that I’ve even seen. I was going to look for a new ship after.”

Rickon waited. He knew that this would be the titular moment. While she was lost in thought, rearranging what she knew and creating a plan, the unicorn was getting a clear handle on her intentions. It would be now or never, and Rickon didn’t know what he was hoping for.

After a long moment, the young unicorn walked up to them. It regarded them briefly before bowing its head back toward Rickon’s hands. He rubbed at its muzzle, and the unicorn carefully pranced back into the forest.

At his side, he saw the woman deflate yet again. She was staring at her feet, but she clearly didn’t see what the unicorn had left behind. Rickon leaned over to pick up the thin strand of unicorn hair from the ground.

“Well, would you look at that?”

She snapped up, and her mouth fell open. “Is it—is it for me?”

Rickon scoffed, holding it out to her. “I can only assume so,” he said. “ _I_ don’t want it.”

Taking it with a mystified expression on her face, she carefully curled it into a small circle before placing it into a small bag and tucking it away in her pocket. “Thank you,” she said. “I… should go look for a new ship.”

Furrowing his brow, Rickon dug into his pocket. He pulled out a small business card. “I think I can help,” he said. “Do you have a phone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The prompts for Rickeen Week 2017 have been chosen!](https://frozensnares.tumblr.com/post/162847190256) Time to get ready, and if you have any questions, feel free to shoot them my way!


	5. Chapter 5

The creak of old wooden steps loudly scraped through the bar. It was only the creaking that made the pounding of heavy boots almost unnoticeable. Shireen charged straight down the narrow hallway, fumbling with the metal key for a moment before twisting open the lock and barging into the room. She hastily shoved the few scattered belongings into her duffel bag, zipping it up quickly before slinging the bag over her body. With as much speed as she could manage, Shireen quickly locked the door before retracing her steps even faster back down.

Halfway to the door, she spun around to place the key on the bar, making Lenne jump back a few paces. Osha put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, giving Shireen a level look.

“Thank you so much for everything,” Shireen blurted out as fast as she could. “Really. It’s been great.”

“OI!” Rickon yelled through the open door of the bar. He revved the engine of the motorcycle he was on. “You want a ride or what?”

“I have to go,” Shireen said, spinning on her heel. “Thank you!” she called as she caught the helmet Rickon tossed at her. Shoving it on her head, Shireen quickly slung a leg over the bike. She didn’t even have time to secure her bag or find a proper grip as Rickon sped off.

He drove with reckless abandon. At least, she assumed it was reckless to be swerving through trees, jumping curbs, and navigating alleys. No one yelled at them, though, and if anyone did, they were going too fast to notice. Shireen just kept a firm hold of her seat with one hand fisted lightly as she was willing to risk on the side of his jacket. Luckily, she expected this.

They had a very brief conversation as they ran back to the bar and guesthouse about her transportation arrangements. The hurried phone call made it necessary for them to act fast, and Shireen had no other options but to agree. Still, her heart was pounding in her ears as she went.

She had yet to admit to herself that she had less time than she thought. Davos had called her yesterday, urging her to return quickly. Something about the timeline was off, and she didn’t like it one bit. Thinking on the details made her head ache, and she quickly put the thought aside. She needed to deal with one obstacle at a time.

Taking a sharp turn, Rickon slowed only marginally as he wove through the docks. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but Rickon quickly took off again. Shireen checked her balance, only to be pushed off the bike rather roughly moments later.

“Go, go, go,” Rickon said, quickly. He was trying to pry her fingers off his jacket.

Shireen snapped to attention, stumbling off the motorcycle, and heading toward the nearest ship. Someone was leaning over the top deck, a rope ladder was hanging over the side, and they were extending a hand down to her. Shireen quickly climbed up, clambering over the railing to get on deck safely. Leaning onto her knees, Shireen took in a deep breath. A dull thud echoed in her ears and she realized she was still wearing the helmet. She barely had it off before it was pulled from her hands. Shireen looked up to watch a well-built woman with short cropped hair tossing it off the ship.

“Thanks!” came Rickon’s distant voice from below.

Shireen tried to go over to wave at him, but her head was spinning from his wild driving and having a moving floor underneath her now. Instead of getting to her full height, Shireen sunk to a crouch, putting her head between her knees. She took a few deep breaths before risking looking up.

When she did, the short-haired woman was standing off near the bow of the ship. One of her hands was lightly placed on the railing, and she was looking off in the distance. Shireen steadied herself as much as possible while the woman’s back was turned. Of all the first impressions she could make, this was the worst. Shireen knew how to be at sea. Luckily, the woman turned to her with a smile.

“Glad you made it,” she said. “We couldn’t change our schedule so late.”

“Thank you,” Shireen breathed out. “Really. I can’t tell you how much—”

The woman cut her off with a raised hand. “If you are what he says you are, I’ll be the one paying _you_ at the end of this trip,” she insisted. “You’ll be doing us a favor.”

Shireen nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The woman grinned, offering her a hand up.

Grasping onto her forearm, Shireen got to her feet. Her vision was still spinning, but she tried not to let it show. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “He drives like a maniac.”

The woman laughed. “Be glad he does,” she said. “You’d have been late otherwise.”

“True,” Shireen agreed. “I’m Shireen. I’ve got limited materials with me, but I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

“Asha Greyjoy, Captain of this vessel,” she said in turn. “If you get me a list of materials, I’ll have a hand dig them out for you. This ship may be old, but it’s well-stocked.”

Shireen grinned at her. “Then let’s get to work.” 

\--

Qarl did not look like a sailor. That was certain. Shireen knew a multitude of sailors in her life, and all of them would have laughed at having Qarl on board, especially as first mate. He certainly didn’t command the respect that Asha did, and he was given plenty of lip as he gave out orders. None of it seemed to bother him, though. Perhaps he had grown used to the jeers and taunting since he still looked so young. He wasn’t, though, and Shireen watched him quickly disarm a man and make him yield with no weapons on him. She’d have to learn his secrets later.

Shireen was certainly happy with his assignment to assist her whenever needed, and Shireen glanced up at him. He was leaning over the rails, letting the sea spray hit his face. Narrowing her eyes at him, Shireen was envious of his position. She knew that she would be soaked to the bone when she finished, so she had dressed lightly, but she was now in danger of illness. It wasn’t going to deter her. Her promise would come first. Shireen grasped onto her knife, going back to etching the complicated symbols and glyphs into the hull of the ship.

It was long, hard work. Qarl pulled her up at regular intervals to offer her warm cider, which she happily drank as she consulted her books and memorized where more lines go.

“You’re sure this will work?” he asked her. Qarl had been asking this the entire day, seeming to think that it was all a waste of time.

Shireen stopped herself from glaring at him. “Positive,” she said. Downing the rest of her drink, she climbed over the railing and straddled her makeshift swing. “One more go ought to do it.”

Qarl shrugged, unfastening the makeshift rigging and sliding Shireen back down on the outside of the hull. She put out a hand when she was at the right level and waited a moment for the swinging to calm down. It wouldn’t stop completely, but she was used to this by now. Moving as close as she could, Shireen continued her etching, carving the hull with as much precision as she could. It was long work, and Shireen’s entire body was sore, stiff, and freezing. She kept at it until she was fully satisfied, though, before signaling that Qarl bring her back on deck.

He greeted her with a smile. “All good?”

Shireen nodded, trying to scrape off the water that was pooled on her skin. Grabbing a fistful of her shirt, she wrung it out on the deck. “That’ll cover most of the surface protections,” she said, starting on her hair. “The deep water threats won’t care much. I’ll try something to help that tomorrow.”

“We really appreciate it,” Qarl said. He pulled the swing back onto the deck and picked up her discarded materials for her. “We’ve had to stop a lot for maintenance because of so many issues.”

“Glad to help,” Shireen said. She tossed her hair back, taking her things back from Qarl. 

He led them back to the cabins, finding the one that had been set aside for Shireen. The accommodations were much more than she was expecting, with a large bed and attached bath. She was going to make good use of them now. Qarl reminded her of dinner time before leaving her to her own for the rest of the evening.

Shireen locked herself into the cabin and quickly got into a hot shower. So far, everything about Asha’s ship had surprised her. While it looked to be entirely old-fashioned—a large wooden barge—the interior of the ship was completely modern. It was all the comforts of a home while at sea, and Shireen was pleased to be part of it for this stretch of her journey.

After a filling dinner, Shireen put on comfortable clothes before settling in for the night. She was thinking through what else she could do to help the ship tomorrow, for what was supposed to be the last leg of her journey, when she drifted off to sleep.

Shireen was woken a while later by a loud scratching sound. She sat up immediately, used to such occurrences. Sure enough, minutes later, the scratching sounded again. It sounded more distant now, as if whatever it was had moved away from right outside her door. Sliding off the bed, Shireen shoved her feet into her boots before pulling on her heavy coat. Then, she slowly slid the lock out of place and looked out into the hallway.

Nothing was immediately visible, but she knew she hadn’t imagined the noise. Shireen pulled her phone out of her pocket. Without letting her eyes drop, she turned on a flashlight and let the beam travel down the hall. There wasn’t any sign of movement, but her eyes caught on a deep gash in the wood next to her door. Shireen went back inside, grabbing a pistol before going back to investigate.

The deep cut through the wood stretched all the way down the hall, with a few breaks at odd intervals. Shireen stepped closer to it, holding the light away to see it better. The gash was rough, splintering wood, but the edges at certain points were much cleaner than others. Running her fingers over it, she found evidence that other gashes had once graced this wall. They were at different heights, but they had been filled in and stained to blend in.

Shireen frowned. She followed the line in both directions before deciding that she didn’t want to be the only one awake to deal with this on her own. Asha had given her explicit permission to wake her if she ever needed anything, and this definitely qualified. Hurrying around, Shireen went to the captain’s quarters before knocking on the door loud enough to be heard.

Surprisingly, she heard the response immediately. There was some shuffling, and then the door opened. Asha was closing up a shirt, buttoning it up over her cleavage. However, behind her, she could see something moving about in the bed. Ignoring it, Shireen focused on Asha.

“You need to come,” Shireen said, gesturing down the hall. “Something’s clawing its way through your ship.”

Asha swore under her breath. “Again,” she muttered, turning into the room. She came back with a long dirk. “It’s getting more frequent.”

“Any substantial damage?” Shireen asked. She stepped back to let Asha into the hallway.

“Only if it gets to the engine room,” she said. “That’s what happened last time.”

Asha pushed past her into the hall. Behind her, Qarl ran out. He exchanged a quick word with Asha before diverting himself down a different hallway. Shireen jogged to catch up, matching stride with the captain. She glanced around at the wall, following the path down the hall. After a moment, Asha sped up. She rounded a corner quickly, crashing into a heavy mass. Shireen aimed up her pistol before lowering it. It was just another crew member.

“Get up,” Asha said sharply. “Wake the crew. We need men stationed around the engine room. I will not have this ship docked unnecessarily again.”

The man nodded curtly before rushing off.

“If we follow the lines,” Asha said slowly, “we may be able to crash into this thing.”

“How often does it attack?” Shireen asked.

Asha kept on a few more paces. “Two or three times a month,” she said, “but it’s getting more frequent.”

Reaching out, Shireen grabbed Asha’s arm to turn her around. “And do you only ever follow it where it goes?”

“Well, yeah,” Asha said.

Shireen shook her head slowly. She wheeled around, hurrying around in the opposite direction. “If you’re following where it’s going, then you don’t know where it’s coming from,” she said. “We need to find the source.”

“Who cares about the source?” Asha asked. “That thing is wrecking my ship!”

“If you find the source,” Shireen said, trying not to break into a run, “you can stop it from ever coming back.”

Then, she ran. She followed the scratches back across the door of her room, onto the desk, down a few meters, and leading to a hatch on the floor. Shireen made the open it when Asha stopped her.

“That’s classified down there,” she said.

Shireen gave her a look. “What you get into is your business,” she said curtly. Men were starting to shuffle out onto the deck. “I’ll get this thing gone forever, but I need access.”

Asha gave her a long look, perhaps trying to decide whether or not she could fully trust Shireen. Then, the ship lurched. That seemed to strengthen her resolve. “Men!” Asha called. “Three to the engine room. Armed. Attack anything that might attack you first.”

The group nodded, and three of them broke off.

“The rest of you,” she said. “Anything this woman needs, you get to her. She stays safe through the night. Understand?”

Again, the group nodded as a whole. 

Asha eyed the group. “Get this open.”

Two men came forward. They quickly opened up the hatch, removing the door completely for easier access. Shireen sat down to lower herself into the compartment when an earsplitting screech filled the air. Someone immediately grabbed her under the arms and pulled her away from the hole. Shireen cocked her pistol and aimed it behind her.

“Anyone touches me without permission, and they will learn just how much damage this gun can do,” she said.

The man took raised his hands into the air. Without speaking, he circled around her and jumped down first. There was the distinct sound of a struggle.

“Idiot,” Shireen muttered. She leapt down after him, landing with her feet splayed out on either side of his body. She swept her flashlight around the room, keeping the gun raised. When nothing came at her, she knelt down to examine the man. He was still conscious, but a bright red gash had appeared across his chest.

He’d survive.

Shireen looked around the room. It wasn’t quite a smuggler’s bay, but Shireen had no doubt that some of the crates down here would not pass inspection. Not to mention that some of them looked older than her.

Asha climbed down slowly, keeping her guard up.

Shireen rounded on her. “Do you have all of this inventoried?”

“Of course I do,” Asha said. “I keep track of anything that goes on and off this ship.”

“Get me that list,” Shireen said. “And a metal barrel.”

Asha nodded, sending the command up.

Shireen continued wandering the room, looking for any sort of label on the various crates and containers down here. She didn’t know what side of the law Asha stood on, but she wasn’t going to pry into details. There was a job to do. She turned to Asha. “When’s the last time you cleaned out?”

“We don’t,” Asha said. “Everything has value if you find the right buyer.”

“Someone is trying to turn this into a ghost ship,” Shireen shot back. “You need to protect your crew first, especially if you don’t know what you’re bringing on board.”

“I know what all of it is,” she said, her voice rising. “Just because some people don’t pay for their shipments doesn’t mean we should chuck them.”

“Yes, you should,” Shireen emphasized. “And you should stop giving them business. They’re setting dark forces against you. Even if I signaled out whatever is causing _this_ —” she gestured to the man on the floor, “—you’ll still have a host of problems.”

Asha gave her level look. Then, she signaled for Shireen to head out onto the deck.

Shireen sighed. “Get me a pen and paper,” she said to Asha. “I can keep your men safe while you clean out.”

Asha nodded, following through on that order first. Then, she sent out the order to her crew. They were to receive talismans from Shireen and keep them on their person while emptying out the entire storage for inspection.

It took most of the night, but Shireen worked through everything they had on board. A good majority of it was set to burn. Some were immediate; others could wait until they docked at a safe harbor. There were a few crates that were suspicious, but Asha promised they’d be gone soon after their delivery, whether they were paid for or not.

They made it through the night safely. A few more attacks were set on the crew through the course of it, but Shireen could always dispel whatever it was with a few choice words before setting the source on fire. It was long work, but Shireen expected this with the bulk of what was on the ship. Eventually, the crew started putting a few crates back, and Shireen stretched out with a yawn.

“Would you like breakfast first?” Asha offered. Her temperament improved greatly over the course of the night.

Shireen waved her off. “Just some sleep.”

“I’ll have a meal prepared for you whenever you wake,” Asha told her. “We’ll be docking for you at first light tomorrow.”

Shireen nodded. “Then, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Asha laughed. “Nonsense,” she said. “This may be a blow to future profits, but it’s well worth it if it means safe sailing.”

They shared a quick smile before Shireen went off in search of some rest. The rest of the trip passed without incident. Shireen scribbled out her contact information in case there were any future incidents that they needed taken care of. She’d even sail out to help them if they could get their coordinates to her.

As they were about to dock, Shireen packed up the remainder of her belongings, making sure that she wasn’t missing anything. All of her weapons and ammunition were accounted for. She still had the single unicorn hair tucked away safely. She was fully prepared to head out. Then, she checked her pockets. Again. And again.

Her keys were missing.

She had foolishly left the keys to her grandfather’s Valyrian back on Skagos. With a groan, Shireen hefted the bag up onto her shoulder and went out onto the deck. It wouldn’t do to worry about now. She’d just have to have her own car towed when it docked in a week. Then, she’d have to find a way to stop her grandfather’s ghost from haunting her for the rest of her life.


	6. Chapter 6

Swinging himself off the motorcycle, Rickon trudged back into the bar. Only a few more people were up, though they were all separated from each other. Rickon tossed the keys on the counter before flopping into a seat himself. With the adrenaline of time constraints leaving him, he finally felt like he could relax.

“Get up!” Osha snapped at him. She smacked the back of his head with a towel for good measure.

Rickon rubbed at his head without getting up. “I just got here!” he called back. His voice was muffled by his arms. “I’m trying to rest.”

Osha snorted. “Head upstairs then,” she told him. “I filled a bath for you.”

Jolting up, Rickon spun around to gape at her. “Are you serious?”

“You stink,” Osha said tritely, starting to walk away.

Rickon smiled after her, shoving himself away from the bar and beginning the trek upstairs. He ignored his room completely and headed straight to Osha’s. She had the only room in the building with a large enough bathtub to bathe in, and that was the only one he wanted right now. The door was unlocked, though the key was stuck on the inside. He locked it and started pulling off his clothes on the way to the bathroom. Before he went into the room, he only just remembered to snag a towel.

The hot water was immensely soothing on his skin, and Rickon felt like he has spent far too long without properly taking care of himself. Sinking completely underneath the water, Rickon slowly blew out bubbles. He wanted to completely forget about everything he still needed to do. It was a short while of relaxation before he started to loosen up, and he became acutely aware of all the grime on his skin. Sitting up, Rickon grabbed at a bar of soap and scrubbed at his skin. He quickly washed his hair before draining the tub and jumping in the shower to properly rinse off.

Wrapping the towel over his hips, Rickon wandered the room looking for his clothes. Sometime during his bath, they vanished from the room. He briefly considered putting on one of Osha’s jackets. It didn’t seem worth the effort for the short walk across the hallway, so he opened the door to hurry across the hallway. Unfortunately, there was someone in his way.

Lenne’s eyes went wide. They moved down the smallest amount before she squeezed them shut. “Osha put your clothes to wash,” she sputtered out. Her eyelids were flickering, and she clapped a hand over her eyes. She held out another hand to him with a key in it. “I was just going to leave you the key to your room…”

“Oh.” Rickon reached out for the key, but Lenne tried to rush through the awkward interaction. She ended up hitting him in the stomach with the key, letting it fall to the floor, and rushing back down the stairs.

Rickon watched her go before bending down for the key. Then, he went to his room in search of proper clothes. He was surprised to find that it looked exactly as he had left it. Even though Osha had let that other woman stay here, it didn’t appear that she had actually touched anything. Pulling on clothes, Rickon searched out the hiding place for the key to his apartment, knowing that he had a stash of equipment under the care of Torrhen.

Tossing his towel over the side of his bed, Rickon heard something clatter to the ground. Crouching down, Rickon went to investigate. He quickly located the fallen coins and set to picking them up. Stretching under his bed, Rickon grabbed the few escapees and found something much larger waiting as well.

It was a very shiny, silver key, though it was unmistakably one for a car. Rickon bit down a swear, knowing that he’d recognize the symbol on the other side of it. He turned it over to find the embossed silver silhouette of the dragon. Most unfortunately, he knew _exactly_ which Valyrian it belonged to.

\--

Rickon took the long walk back to the apartment he shared with Torrhen. He went slow, relaxing in the feeling of being back in comfortable clothes and in a familiar place. It had been months since he was afforded both of those luxuries. Skagos was cold as ever, but Rickon was used to it. He was bundled up against the stinging wind, wondering if he should head straight back or deal with his useless phone first. Placing a hand in his pocket, Rickon stretched out his fingers, briefly hooking them around the metal loop of the car keys that now sat there. Then, he released it to pull out his phone.

Without checking the street, Rickon crossed. He moved with purpose through a narrow alleyway before emerging on a small street lined with shops. It was just as busy as he was used to: few people wandering about for groceries, only a few small children running around and causing their parents distraction. Rickon glanced up at the gloomy sky before walking down the street and sliding into a small shop.

“Welcome. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The voice was far from welcoming, but it only took a quick look at the counter to realize that the only person in this store was entirely consumed with her current project. Rickon aimlessly wandered the shop, looking around at all the things he couldn’t afford to buy. It wouldn’t fit his budget. He could barely afford a new phone. Still, it would be helpful if he had some of the merchandise available. Carrying around a mobile hotspot would make his research much easier. And the things he could do with a computer? Rickon didn’t even let himself consider it.

“Alright.” The woman at the counter stood up, pulling off her glasses and stretching out her arms. She shook them out gently before turning toward Rickon. “What can I do you for?”

Rickon leaned onto the counter, giving her a smile. “Hi, Nella.”

Slowly, she blinked at him. Then, her eyes went wide. “Rickon!”

Rushing around the counter, she threw her arms around his neck. Rickon laughed, returning the hug. Nella ushered him into a seat and pulled out two water bottles.

“How are you?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I haven’t been here in months,” Rickon said, “but I was hoping you could work a miracle for me.”

Nella shook her head. “What do I look like? A miracle man?” she asked him. “Thom’s five shops down.”

Rickon grinned. He leaned onto the counter with his elbows. “Well, my miracle has a battery.”

He held up his phone, but it wasn’t even entirely on the table before Nella snatched it away from him. She quickly pulled it apart, separating out all the pieces and laying them out on the table. Her tongue was held in place by her teeth as she worked, absently grabbing her glasses and putting them back on.

“Jeez, what’d you do to it?” she asked.

Rickon shrugged. “Fell in a pool?”

Nella snorted. “Don’t lie to me,” she said. “There’s all this residue on it. It doesn’t even look fried. I might be able to clean up everything, maybe get away with a few replacements to get it working… Ew, what it that? Is it—it’s… Rickon, why is there seaweed in your phone?”

“It was stuck at the bottom of a harbor for a few hours,” he admitted.

“Hours?” Nella continued working at the innards of the phone, grabbing out a scrap of cloth and collecting the metal bits on it. “Were you trapped with it?”

“Not as long,” Rickon said evasively.

Nella nodded, no longer listening to what he said. Rickon knew she couldn’t keep up a conversation while she worked, but she was the only person on the island who wouldn’t suggest he shell out hundreds for a new phone. He knew that she had a bunch of old, dead phones lying about that she stole pieces from to keep others working. Nella dropped a handful of materials into a shallow dish.

“I can have it running by tonight,” she announced. “Your SIM’s still working just fine. It’s all mechanical junk that you ruined. Easy fix, if I can get it cleaned.”

“How much?” Rickon asked.

Biting her lip, Nella tapped her chin. “Let’s see… how much money do I want from a completely broke guy?” she asked herself. “I know. How about you owe me a favor instead?”

“A favor?” Rickon asked. “Like what?”

“Well, I’ve never been privy to your… _services_ before,” Nella said. “So… let’s just leave that as an out in case I get into a bind.”

Rickon nodded, holding out his hand. “Deal.”

Nella shook his hand enthusiastically. “Also, since I have you here,” she said leadingly. “Your mom is finally upgrading that old bar to have some wireless connectivity. Wanna make a delivery?”

Rickon held up his hands defensively. “I can’t install anything.”

“Obviously,” Nella said. “I’ll do the installations later tonight. I can drop off your phone, too. I’m just a little busy right now, and Tera wants to get lunch today.”

“Where are you going?” Rickon asked.

Nella smacked Rickon’s arm. “Uh-uh,” she said firmly. “I am not being talked into buying you lunch, too. You want a date? Go ask someone attracted to your gender. I think Torrhen’s available.”

Rickon laughed, backing up to the door. “That’s definitely not a possibility,” he said. Rickon snatched at the bag Nella was holding out. “But I’ll let him know you still think it is.”

He left before Nella could comment on it further, heading in the opposite direction from his ultimate destination. It was a short trip back to the bar, though, and Rickon didn’t have anything else to be doing. He hadn’t sought out a case for this trip home. He just needed to regroup and find his way back to the mainland before long. The jiggling keys in his pocket reminded him that he needed to take care of that, too. Or at least find a way to mail them along.

He strolled into the bar to find Osha at the counter, wiping off some glasses. She didn’t even look up as he approached.

“Back early?” he asked.

Rickon placed the bag on the counter, taking a seat. “I went to Nella to get my phone fixed,” he said. “She asked me to deliver your new router.”

Osha grinned, moving the bag off the counter. “Now, I can start charging these louts more.”

Leaning onto an elbow, Rickon tried to take on an aloof expression. He waited for a while, going over a few phrases in his head. “So what were you thinking letting a hunter in here?”

Osha shot him a look through her eyelashes. “I am at perfect liberty to provide a room to anyone I’d like.”

“ _My_ room?” Rickon asked. “With Shaggy here?”

“I told her it was useless,” Osha said. “She insisted.”

Rickon shook his head, scooting forward in his seat. “Do you even know anything about her?”

Osha stared him down, trying to see through his intentions. She cleaned another three glasses. “I didn’t realize you liked her.”

“Ugh,” Rickon groaned, pushing himself off the stool. “You’re a pest, Mom.”

Osha shrugged. “Shireen was too focused on her own case anyway,” she said, setting the rag down. “Have you looked in at Torrhen?”

“No?” Rickon asked back. He filed away the other hunter’s name for later. “Why? What’s Torrhen need?”

“He’s been acting out-of-character,” Osha said. She turned around and beckoned Lenne forward. “Lenne saw him about town with…”

“Torrhen?” Lenne asked. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “He’s got a girlfriend. None too subtle about it, either. I’ve never seen him so smitten.”

Rickon looked between the two women. “You’re lying.”

Lenne was affronted. “Why would I?” she asked. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”

“When did you see them?” Rickon asked.

“Started about three days ago?” Lenne said, turning to Osha with a shrug. “I’d never seen the woman before. She must have just come in.”

Rickon groaned. He really didn’t want to be dealing with this today, but it would have to be seen to. If his hunch was correct, Torrhen was in trouble. He likely didn’t even realize it. He was nearly out the door when a bundle of fabric hit the back of his head. Rickon didn’t even question it. He simply unwound the scarf enough to get it around his neck and went out.

The wind had picked up. It was biting his exposed skin, and Rickon realized that he wasn’t used to this weather. The wind alone would be fine, but the sea left salt in the air. He pulled the scarf around his neck again, tying it in place before rushing back through the streets to his old apartment. Luckily, Torrhen’s familiar truck was parked outside. Rickon marched right up to the door and pounded on it.

“Torrhen!” he called out. “Open up!”

Muffled voiced came from inside, but they hushed themselves quickly.

Rickon resumed his knocking. “I know you’re in there!” he called. “Let me in!”

He peeled his ears for any signs of noise, but he only caught some faint hissing. Then, the door swung open. Rickon stood his ground, watching as an extremely curvy woman was revealed. Her full, red lips parted to reveal a smile of absurdly white teeth. She pushed her hair behind her shoulder, intentionally squeezing her breasts together.

“Hello there,” she said, looking him up and down. “You’re a nice one.”

Rickon waited for her to move. He did not have the patience to deal with this today.

The woman stepped toward him, pointing a long-nailed finger at his chest. “You’d make a fine partner,” she said. “What’s under the jacket?”

Rickon flicked his hand up, smacking her wrist away. “Get out.”

“Sure,” the woman said. She stepped outside without a sweater, leaving her arms bare to the forces. It didn’t seem to faze her at all. Even though her shirt was far too thin and her pants were scarcely more than a second skin, she strolled away until she was out of sight.

“Fucking hells, Torrhen,” Rickon slammed the door behind him. “What’d you do?”

Standing in the hallway was an open-mouthed Torrhen. His pants were loosened, but he didn’t seem aware of it in the slightest. He was still in mismatched, disheveled clothes. His hair looked like one solid mass on top of his head.

“Torrhen!” Rickon stepped toward him, jabbing at his shoulder. “Dude! What the fuck?”

His eyes were still glazed over, and he took a staggering step toward the door.

Rickon snagged the back of his shirt, dragging him into a bedroom and throwing him toward the bed. “Stay.”

Rickon went into the closet, shoving jackets and shoes aside to get to the floor. Nothing was where he’d left it. “Dammit, Torrhen,” he said, heading back into the room. “Where’d you put my stuff?”

Torrhen was slowly making his way to the door. Rickon pulled him backwards again and left the room. He entered the other bedroom, running the same search. Nothing was out of place. Rickon slid the bed out of place, pulling back a rug and ripping out a floorboard. He reached in a pulled out a duffel bag. Repeating the action, Rickon pulled out three more bags and two shoeboxes. He opened up the last one and dug for a small tied pouch. 

Rickon hurried back to the first room, but Torrhen was missing. He found his roommate fumbling with the front door. Rushing to his side, Rickon opened the small pouch right under Torrhen’s nose. Recoiling from the smell, Torrhen wiped the back of his hand over his nose.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, bending over double.

“Hartshorn,” Rickon said, tying the pouch back up. “It was that or throwing you into a cold shower.”

“For what?” Torrhen blinked up at Rickon. He cocked his head to the side and then looked down at his pants. “Am I finally getting lucky?”

Rickon threw the pouch at Torrhen. “You idiot!” he shouted. “What the hell were you doing getting cozy with a daughter of the Crone?”

“A what?” Torrhen looked confused. He started fixing his pants before finally getting a look at what he was wearing. “The fuck is this?”

Shaking his head, Rickon retrieved the pouch before walking back over to all the things he pulled from the floor. He tucked the pouch of hartshorn away before looking through the rest of it. Torrhen’s sounds of distress came from down the hall, and Rickon ignored him as he sifted through his belongings.

He was halfway through sorting out his collected materials for hunting when Torrhen walked into the room.

“Please, for the love of the gods, tell me that I did not go out in public like that.”

“No luck there,” Rickon said. He tossed boxes of ammunition onto the bed.

Torrhen flopped onto it and tossed an arm over his eyes. “My life is over,” he announced. “I can never go out again.”

“You’ll be lured out tonight,” Rickon said. He started in on his collection of knives. “Seems that succubus has been working on you for days. Who knows how long her vemon’s been in your system?”

Torrhen gaped at the ceiling. “How’d you know that?”

“Osha’s new worker saw you with a girlfriend,” Rickon explained, “but I knew that couldn’t be true because you spent months flirting with me.”

“She thought I was straight?” Torrhen looked appalled.

Rickon nodded, noticing that Torrhen’s outfit looked much better now. He was back to his usual look that he referred to as “messy but classy.” Torrhen had at least chosen to wear his current outfit.

“What are you doing back anyway, Rickon?” he asked. “I thought you bailed for good.”

Rickon shrugged. “Had to come pick up some things,” he said. “Cases brought me this way, and my phone died. Nella’s the only one who doesn’t charge me an arm and a leg for a fix.”

“What about me?” Torrhen whined. “Am I stuck like this forever? Did that thing turn me straight?”

With a snort, Rickon tossed a blade onto Torrhen’s stomach. “Just wait a month for the venom to wear out,” he said. “I’ll intercept her tonight, but no telling what killing her will do.”

“You’re going to kill her?”

“Do you want a daughter of the Crone to keep trying to have sex with you to make demon babies?” Rickon asked back.

Torrhen paused with his mouth open. He grabbed onto the blade and unsheathed it. “So we talking beheading or what?”

\--

The music was blaring loud enough that it wasn’t even really sound anymore. It was just a pounding sensation that seemed like it was coming from the people more than the speakers. The mass of humans moved as one—up and down to the rhythm of the music. Occasionally, a few people would pull away from the mob for drinks or a break. Small groups were spaced out along the walls, idling about to catch the eye of others or simply take a break from the excitement.

Rickon was settled between two of these groups. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, and his mouth was set in a firm frown. Everything about his was completely still, save for his eyes that were constantly scanning the crowd.

A short distance away, Torrhen was moving awkwardly through the crowd. He was under strict instructions to act as he had before, but Rickon thought he was doing a poor job of it. Rickon just hoped that if the succubus made an appearance, Torrhen would safely lure her away. His roommate didn’t look up for the task, though. He kept shooting Rickon strange looks through the crowd.

After a long while of this, Rickon kicked off the hall and twisted through the crowd to get to Torrhen. As he approached, Torrhen broke into a fit of laughter.

“Dude!” Rickon called over the music. He leaned toward Torrhen and pulled him up by the collar. “What’s your problem?”

Torrhen sobered up quickly. “You didn’t see that girl?” he asked. “She _specifically_ pulled her tits out for you. When you left… she looked horrified!”

Rickon jabbed at Torrhen’s shoulder. “We’re on a mission here,” he reminded Torrhen. “If that… thing shows up again, we gotta move.”

“Right, right,” Torrhen said, straightening out. “How’s my acting?”

“Terrible.” Rickon looked around the crowd. “You should look a little hypnotized, as if you can’t resist her for anything else.”

Torrhen stretched out his mouth in a grimace. “Ew.”

“Put on the act,” Rickon said. He crossed Torrhen’s shoulder, muttering and edging into the crowd. “Lay it on thick… She’s walking right up to you. Slinky black dress. You can’t miss her.”

Torrhen blinked in confusion, looking around aimlessly.

Rickon shot him a quick thumbs-up, disappearing from sight. He watched through the crowd, moving against the music in his anticipation. Torrhen was doing a great job of acting completely stunned, but that was mostly because the lights were too low for anyone else to realize that his shocked was tinged with disgust. Rickon slid further into the crowd. He needed to stay hidden before the succubus realized he was there.

Edging off the main floor, Rickon settled against the wall and scanned the crowd for Torrhen. He should be easy to spot leaving, but Rickon didn’t want to leave much to chance. Unfortunately, Torrhen was nowhere to be seen. Narrowing his eyes, Rickon scanned the crowd, trying to read every face and find his roommate. At this point, he’d be happy to find the succubus. Neither were in the crowd, nor did they appear to be in the building.

Swearing, Rickon made his way to the door, hoping to interrogate the guy out front. He was letting in a pair of girls with their cleavage hanging out. Rickon pulled his shoulder during a small reprieve.

“I’ll call the police, buddy,” he warned, turning around.

Rickon rolled his eyes. “Did you see anyone leave just now?”

“What?” the bouncer asked. “No, not now. Just people coming in.”

Rickon turned back to the crowd, disappearing before the bouncer could ask more questions. He shoved his way forcefully through the crowd, making his way into secluded spaces to check for Torrhen. His search proved to be futile, and he was soon at the back wall. Rickon followed the wall, looking for any crevasses that Torrhen could be hiding in. He couldn’t figure out how they slipped away without his notice. The only feasible explanation was that Torrhen had taken an unexpected dose of venom. If so, Rickon’s window of time was getting lower, and he needed to find his roommate fast.

There was a security door in the far corner, and Rickon left the building without a second thought. The succubus couldn’t try anything in this crowded area, the chances were far too high that they’d be caught or the police would be called for public indecency. Rickon doubled his way around the building, but there was no sign of Torrhen anywhere. Muttering under his breath, Rickon went down the street. He chose the side with fewer pedestrians, thinking that the succubus would try to make her conquest quickly.

Rushing down the street, Rickon peered down every alley. He wanted to make this search as fast as possible and be done with this. He almost wished he’d have just killed Torrhen’s fake-girlfriend before knowing exactly what she was. In his hurry, Rickon failed to notice a young girl rushing toward him. He crashed into her on the sidewalk, and quickly took a few steps back to check his balance. 

“Sorry,” he said, getting his bearings back. Then, he noticed the wide-eyed terror in the girl’s eyes. He quickly scanned over her, noticing that she was barefoot and wearing only a thin, white dress. Her skin looked sallow in the low light, and she looked much too young to be out. Rickon furrowed his brow. “Where are you coming from?”

The girl visibly swallowed, hugging herself and taking a step into the gutter. “The old sept,” she whispered out. “They have a bunch of us. I didn’t know what to do; I only just got out.”

Rickon gestured down, trying to keep his voice low. He didn’t want to scare this girl, but he desperately wanted information. It wasn’t worth keeping her out, though. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll take care of it, I promise. You run home. Straight there, okay?”

Ideally, he’d have liked to call and pay for her cab home, but he didn’t have his phone back yet. Not to mention that there definitely wasn’t enough time to see her to safety personally. If what she said was true, there were a bunch of other abducted girls to save. And probably a lot of boys, too.

The girl looked frozen on the street, eyeing him nervously. She fidgeted away. “What are you going to do?”

Rickon smiled as he walked past her. “I’m going to save them, obviously.”

He hurried along before he could get too distracted. The plan was obvious, at least from the succubus’s perspective. They chose the abandoned sept because most Skagosi worshipped the Old Gods. It wouldn’t get any visitors, especially the last septon was nearly chased off the island. It was doubly serve as a form of disgrace to the Maiden, which would be perfect for a breeding ground for more children of the Crone. 

However, he had options at the sept. He just needed to not get caught.

Rickon avoided the front door, sneaking around the building. There would be at least seven entrances, according to the faith. He simply needed to find one and get into the basement. None of the doors were open, but Rickon did find an unprotected window. He risked discovery, cracking open the edges so he could pull it out. With little effort, Rickon shimmied through, falling onto the hard stone floor. He rushed to the wall next to the door, pulling out a long machete from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Taking deep breaths, Rickon waited for any signs of motion. After a minute, he couldn’t risk waiting any longer. Rickon slid out the door, heading off to find a staircase leading down. It came sooner than he expected, and Rickon ran down the steps. He needed to find a blessed object to repel the succubus. It would subdue them long enough for their beheading. Rickon tore open a box filled with candles.

They were undoubtedly stored for a Maiden’s Day that Skagos had never seen. Each candle had a seven-pointed star carved into it. Even better, the box was accompanied by matches. Rickon shoved as many as he could into his pockets, needing to shut off the seven entrances to the main sept with them. Then, he hurried back the way he came, needing to get everything set up and moving as soon as possible.

He found a small opening leading to the main sept, and he backed up against it. He peeled his ears for any sound.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” a shrill voice yelled. 

“There’s no one here but us,” a deep voice replied. “You’re paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” the first responded. “He said he was coming! I spoke with him myself!”

Rickon chanced a look out. He moved back into his hiding spot, rushed by his surprise. In the middle of the open room, the same small girl from before was shouting at a much older boy. Despite her size, she obviously held the power here. Rickon nearly swore. She was one of them. If they suspected him nearby, they’d move faster.

He needed to finish this quickly.

Rushing down the halls, Rickon looked around for a way upstairs. He needed to spread these matches out to block off the entire area so none of them could escape. Rickon climbed up the first flight of stairs that he came across. Then he found the alcoves with windows for viewing the room down below. Rickon pulled out a few matchbooks, ripping out the matches before dropping them down to the floor below.

The process was slow-going, but Rickon kept at it while watching the activity below. Every few minutes, another succubus came through the door. They all brought a dazed man with them, and they were corralled against the wall with no bindings keeping them in place. More disturbingly, occasionally a man would walk in carrying a completely unconscious girl. They were deposited onto a poorly-erected platform in the middle of the room and tied down securely. Each time someone came, Rickon urged himself on faster.

It seemed that this had been planned for a while, and that the involved children of the Crone were planning some ceremonial orgy to spread their kind around further. Rickon needed to take action before anything got too serious, but he looked to be running out of time. As he was nearing his starting point, one of the men in the room started to show obvious signs of stirring from his daze.

The smallest girl in the room didn’t even look over to him. She just jabbed a finger at one of the other succubi in the room. “Shut him up,” she ordered. “We can’t risk being caught now.”

The succubus she pointed to walked over casually. She grabbed his by the chin and opened his mouth with her tongue before aggressively kissing him for a minute.

Rickon rolled his eyes away from the sight. He was almost done. He just needed to avoid detection. The smallest girl kept glancing around. Her arms were tight over her chest, and she looked nervous about the situation.

Keeping his speed, Rickon worked back to his original spot. There were twenty-one windows to pour matches from, and he only had five more to go. On his next move to another window, Rickon grasped at the few remaining matchbooks he had. He needed to keep one match to strike and a candle to be his catalyst connection to the Maiden, but he was running low on ammunition.

“I see you came.”

Rickon stepped backward, nearly falling out the window. He sat down, trying to keep looking casual. “Yeah,” he said. “Just… making a plan.”

The small girl was glaring up at him. She looked peeved, but her brain was obviously working fast. “Start,” she commanded. The women behind her and sprang to their feet. She pointed to one of the men. “You stay here. The rest of you: go deal with our intruder.”

Rickon tried to give them a smile, but the incubi on the floor below all began running in his direction. Rickon swore. He needed them to stay down there, but he also needed to spread out the matches to cover the gap he left.

“Cornered me, huh?” Rickon asked. He tried not to let his gaze stray to the women who were unbuckling belts to try to free the men from their undergarments. He really didn’t want to witness this, but with the sheer number of them, he wasn’t sure how he was going to save everyone. When he could hear the footsteps coming from behind him, he forced himself to choose a plan.

Rickon swung his legs out the window and vaulted himself down to the floor below. He reached for his belt, pulling free his machete. “Not very good at this, are you?”

The girl hissed at him, but the incubus on the floor lunged. Rickon stepped out of the way, switching the grip to stab at the man. He narrowly dodged the blow, tearing his shirt in the process. Rickon moved forward, he wouldn’t allow this creature any opportunity to win this fight, especially since he was about to be swarmed with additional incubi.

A massive weight fell on his back, and Rickon’s knees buckled under the weight. A warm pressure hit his neck before sharp teeth sunk into his skin. Dropping his machete, Rickon reached over his head and grabbed onto the thin fabric of the girl’s dress. Without a thought, he threw her across the room. She crashed into a column with a loud thud before falling to the ground.

“So you hit girls, don’t you?” she asked, wiping a small trail of blood from her mouth.

Rickon cocked his head to the side. “Not exactly human, are you?”

She bared her teeth at him, flexing her hands before running for him again. Rickon almost jumped away, but the incubus was coming at him from the side. The creature dove for his feet, and Rickon remembered the machete. He stepped on the hilt, moving forward to kick the knife back toward the wall. Then, Rickon circled around, dodging his two opponents to get his blade back. 

He managed it with a wide swing of his arm. The motion scattered some matches closer to bridging the gap and Rickon ended it with the blade impaled into the incubus. Shoving the machete in further, Rickon got back to his feet. He shoved the creature off in time to fend off the smaller succubus. She took a hesitant step away, eyeing his blade.

Then, she growled out, “Get him.”

Rickon scrambled away from the walls, and the swish of fabric surrounded the room. There were about ten men attacking him, and Rickon needed to circle around to the other side to get his matches close enough for a fire. He couldn’t do this while fighting, but he needed to draw in everyone. Struggling to fight off his nearest attackers, Rickon forced his left hand into the pocket to pull out the candle and his last matchbook.

He ducked down with it to get just enough time to light the candle and held it up. The nearest creatures to him backed away from the open flame. Rickon stepped toward his gap, watching to see that he had effectively stopped the succubus from continuing with their advancements toward the men. Every one of them was fully focused on him. Rickon edged his way over to the gap, dragging his feet to create the movement he needed in the matches.

“I can put this whole place up in flames,” Rickon threatened.

The smallest succubus stepped through the crowd. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rickon feigned thought. “Fifteen humans for twenty-five children of the Crone? Try me.”

“He’s our seed,” the girl announced. “We’ll sap everything he has.”

Rickon dropped the candle and brandished his machete for the coming onslaught. Sharp fingernails were coming at him from every direction, and quite a few of his attackers were aiming with their teeth. Avoiding venom was Rickon’s biggest priority, but he couldn’t cut down all of them himself. 

He suffered quite a few blows and scratches, with the split focus, but it would be worth it to end this sooner. The flames had never gone up, and Rickon knew that his candle had been extinguished. Rickon continued to fight his way free enough to pull out a pouch of hartshorn. Rickon didn’t have the time to locate Torrhen against the wall, so he took the best aim he could at the closest dazed man.

“…the fuck?”

The man slowly came to. As much as Rickon realized that this was one of the most horrifying situations to awaken to: his pants were down, the possibility that his dick was out was way too high, and there was a swarm of women and men in various stages of undress attacking a stranger. But Rickon had other things to worry about: notably, the fact that there was a crowd of creatures pinning him down. His grip was loosening on the machete, and Rickon needed an out.

“Light a fire!” he called out.

The man gave him a bewildered look, struggling to put his pants back on. “How?”

Rickon kicked out his feet to get farther from the onslaught, but he could feel the various venoms making him sluggish. “Strike a match!” 

The fight to keep his mind right was almost as difficult as the physical fight he was in. Rickon forced himself back to his feet, using his fists and feet to fend off any attack. He kept thinking back to the six girls who were still unconscious and tied down in the middle of the room. They needed to get home safe, and he was the only one who could help them. Pushing himself on, Rickon fought wildly, breaking anything he could get his hands on to ease off the attack. The swish of a blade hit his ears, and Rickon knew he was in trouble. One of them had his machete. Rickon dove into the fight, hoping he could turn this battle again.

A flame went up, and Rickon tried to stave off the feeling of optimism. When he saw Torrhen carrying his machete, he let out a sigh of relief. The fight was far from over, but Torrhen’s eyes were clear, and Rickon knew he wasn’t fighting alone. He started aiming for kill points on the body, knowing that he could at least fell the creatures long enough for a burning.

They started to go down faster, and Rickon was thankful for it. He could feel his muscles growing more lethargic. Torrhen had sliced through almost all of them, only a few succubi were still staggering around. They lunged at Rickon, obviously noting that he was the lesser threat, and Rickon balled himself up in his jacket, waiting for Torrhen to free him. It happened after a while, even though one of them was trying to talk him out of it. After a while, Rickon could finally get to his feet again.

Torrhen handed over the machete, grabbing Rickon by an arm to help him along. “You alright?”

Rickon nodded, heading over to the poorly made altar. “You missed one.”

The smallest succubus was curled up by the altar with ropes loose about her body. She was sobbing into her dress, but Rickon was thoroughly unimpressed.

“She’s a child,” Torrhen said.

“Just another monster,” Rickon said. He bent down and pulled her up by her hair.

“Rickon!” Torrhen tried to pull his arm away.

Rickon shoved him off. “Stop the act. You’re going to die.”

The succubus sobered up quickly glaring at him. Then, she batted her eyelashes at him. “I like it when you play rough with me,” she moaned out. “Shall we keep going?”

Rickon felt the pull of her words, and he knew that there was far too much venom in his system. “Yeah,” he said, dropping the machete. “We’ll keep playing.”

The succubus crumpled to the floor, and Rickon swayed on the spot. He was completely dazed. He couldn’t get his muscles to move even though he wanted to kill the creature. Luckily, he watched Torrhen carry through on this thought, and he felt overwhelming joy at seeing her impaled. A moment later, the sharp smell of hartshorn brought him to.

“Thank you,” Rickon murmured.

“Anytime.” Torrhen turned toward the unconscious girls in the room. “Them next?”

“No,” Rickon staggered to the side of the room. He gestured to the bodies on the floor. “Burn them first.”

Torrhen nodded. “Take a seat, man,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Nodding, Rickon watched as Torrhen dragged the bodies around the room. Then, he realized that he definitely shouldn’t release a bunch of scarcely dressed girls into the night to head home. Stumbling around the room, Rickon crossed right through the flames, to find the storage room again. Rickon sluggishly looked through the cases and boxes until he found more robes, thankfully looking to be from the Maiden. He gathered up six sets before making his way back to the main room.

Torrhen had a huge bonfire going, filled with the bodies. Rickon shook out the robes, draping them over the girls before sawing through their bonds. Torrhen shoved the hartshorn in his palm and took the blade. He made much faster work of the rope, and Rickon helped bring the girls to.

They quickly moved away before they looked around and realized that they could fend off Rickon given the state he was in. Then, they covered themselves up, as they watched the other girls wake up.

“You’re safe,” Rickon said, kneeling down before them. “You’re free to go home. Stay safe on the way. I can…”

Some of the girls were already scattering away from him. Torrhen placed a hand on his shoulder. “I have a phone,” he added. “If you can call a ride…”

“Get to a doctor,” Rickon said. “Make sure everything is fine. I’m sorry this happened.”

Most of them were avoiding eye contact with him, clutching to each other as they ran out of the sept. Rickon sighed, glad to done with this horror show. He slowly got to his feet, accepting more help from Torrhen.

“Are you ready to sleep for three days?” Torrhen asked.

Rickon shook his head roughly and started trudging to the door. “Can’t,” he said. “I need to get to my mom’s for my phone and head to the docks.”

“For what?”

“I have to find a Valyrian.”

Torrhen rolled his eyes, but he drove Rickon out to the Wildling and helped him pack. Osha woke during the process and assisted them. Rickon explained about the keys he found, and they drove him out to the docks in the early morning. The venom was wearing out of his system slowly, but he’d have a few days to sleep it off on the boat. He just wanted to be done moving.

“The sept burned down.”

Rickon turned sharply at the voice, seeing three men holding newspapers on the street. He had been trying to find the boat he needed, but it was difficult with no little information.

“No one liked it anyway.”

“We’re better off.”

Turning his back on them, Rickon pulled his bags more securely around his body as he went on. He questioned a few more dock workers as he went, but none of them were very helpful. There was a possibility that the ship was gone, but Rickon wasn’t going home until he searched every boat here. He kept walking, with his hands shoved in his pockets. His fingers were playing with the car keys in his pocket, and he was eager to see the car they belonged to again. Even though he didn’t like the responsibility of it, he was comforted knowing that there were others out there willingly putting themselves through what he did last night.

“That’s him!” 

Rickon froze, hearing the small voice. A young girl was pointing at him from the passenger’s side window of a truck. Her eyes were sunken and lightly ringed with dark circles, but Rickon felt he knew them. He stupidly pointed to himself. She nodded, giving him a small smile.

The driver was an older man, and he leaned over to look at him. “I hear you’re looking for a Valyrian.”

“Yeah, I am,” Rickon said.

“You got the keys?”

Rickon held them up.

“Come on in, then.”

Rickon stepped toward the bed of the truck, but the passenger’s door swung open. He gave it a hesitant look.

“Come on,” the girl said. “We’ve got space, but leave your bags.”

Before he could question it, Rickon tossed his bag in the bed and slid into the passenger’s seat. He stayed as close to the door after closing it.

“My daughter here tells me you saved her,” the driver said, moving through the boatyard. “Others, too.”

Rickon swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. “I had to.”

“ _Had to_?”

“No one else was going to get there in time.” Rickon shrugged. “I couldn’t leave them.”

They drove in silence for a while. Then, the man stopped the car and got out. Rickon looked at the girl for a moment, but she just smiled at him. The door opened, and Rickon slid out. The man handed Rickon his bags before extending a hand to him.

“I own this shipyard,” the man said. “Every ship in it pays me for docking here. If you’re ever sailing, give me a call first. I will personally pay for all of your trips.”

Rickon stepped away. “You really don’t have to,” he said. “It wasn’t—”

“You saved my daughter’s life,” the man said. He handed Rickon a business card. Large, bold font read _MAGNAR_ across one side. He waited for Rickon to take the card before pointing out a nearby ship. “You’ll find the Valyrian on board there.”

Rickon blinked. “Thank you,” he said. Then, a thought struck him. “If you ever need me, ask for Osha at the Wildling. She’ll let me know.” 

The man nodded, circling his truck and getting back in. The girl was hanging out the window again, and she waved at Rickon as they drove off. Hefting his bags up, Rickon started to the ship. He hoped this captain liked to travel slowly because he wanted several days of rest on this journey south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have very little time to edit these prior to posting now. Writing time is also very limited. If you find any errors and let me know, I'll correct them as soon as I can.


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